


The Ever-Changing Currents of Fate

by Statisticallyunlikely



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:49:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Statisticallyunlikely/pseuds/Statisticallyunlikely
Summary: What would the world be like if Jiraiya became Hokage, brought his three students from Rain to the hidden Leaf, and told Tsunade how he felt? The new Yondaime is in need of loyal subordinates to travel through the great world of ninjas and politics. His students have their own goals, but will working as a team help them achieve their dreams? When a wayward and lost soul wanders from the path of righteousness, will friends be enough to bring them back home? Are their friendships enough to shed light on the dangers that linger and watch from the darkness? The Second Great Ninja War set in motion a great many things. In the aftermath, can those left behind survive the riptide?
Relationships: Jiraiya/Tsunade (Naruto), Konan/Yahiko (Naruto)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Fresh Tides and Treachery

**Hidden Leaf Village**   
Three years after the Second Great Ninja War

_Life is strange_ , he thought, staring out into the sea of people come to see him rise to power. His own life had been strange enough, that was no doubt. Yet he had never thought the great river of fate would bring him here of all places.

Jiraiya the Toad Sage, Legendary Sannin of the Leaf, and Bane of Dames, (though only Tsunade ever called him that), was about to inherit a new title: Yondaime Hokage. Lord Fourth.

Flashing a brilliant white smile that he didn’t feel quite reached his eyes, Jiraiya threw up both arms and returned the hundreds upon hundreds of waves that the adoring crowd were giving him. That only served to rile them up further, and another chorus of cheers broke out. Over on his left the Sandaime, Lord Third, gave him a wry smile.

“I never knew you could be such a crowd-pleaser, Jiraiya.” He motioned to the attendees amassed below, aware that every move was being observed by the people. “They already love you, see? I told you as much.”

Jiraiya, being the showman that he always tried to be, kissed his hand and stepped onto the railing. He firmly planted his feet to the metal with chakra and sent the invisible kiss into the air with as much dramatic emphasis as he could manage. He was sure the ladies would fight near-death for that.

Physically climbing down and, internally dropping lower to reach the depths of his mood, he turned to his mentor and predecessor with a practiced reverence. All the cheering slowly diminished to a hushed silence. It seemed the whole village waited on baited breath, everybody straining to hear the hushed voices of the two Hokage.

Jiraiya the Toad Sage was as tall a man as one could be. He towered over everybody he met, with few exceptions. Even now, the height difference between his former mentor and he was notable to everyone that cared to observe the exchange. When the Lord Third held out the Hokage’s traditional hat, Jiraiya had to bend a bit to accept it. When his hands clenched around the brim, his mouth straightened into a line. It was like taking the wheel of a ship that had thousands of souls aboard. Crushing, suffocating responsibility. _But, if not me, then who?_

“Breathe, Jiraiya. You were destined for this moment,” his former mentor- no, now just Hiruzen Sarutobi, said with a reassuring smile. _His smile reaches his eyes_ , Jiraiya thought bitterly. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. Lord Sandaime let go of his end of the hat and walked to the edge of the platform on top of the Leaf’s central command building. _For one final speech_ , Jiraiya reflected. _How did he do it all these years?_

“People of the Leaf,” Hiruzen Sarutobi began. “We stand here today at the death of one administration, and the birth of a new. For several long and rewarding years, you have allowed me to be your Hokage.” He smiled, and the villagers knew he loved them.

“Through loss and struggle, victory and glory, I have steered this village as best I know how. For you, always, the people. For you, _always_.

“But now, I am an old man. I have ruled with what I hope was strength, wisdom, and integrity. The Will of Fire, which my predecessors, the great Lord First, and stern Lord Second, believed resided in all who love the Land of Fire will continue to burn, so long as there are those that fight for the Hidden Leaf. Our children will carry on the torch after us, as we did after the First and Second passed it down.

“And it is to those children that I speak now: the Will of Fire is not simply inherited. It is _earned_ , and we must be wary of those that seek to extinguish it.” Hiruzen Sarutobi smiled warmly, like the grandfather of the village he was widely regarded as.

“Despite the mighty weight of these words, I’ve no doubt that each and every one of you here today shall rise to the challenge of defending our Will of Fire. It is you, children of the Leaf, that I pass the torch to now. I know you will not disappoint me.” Finally, with his head humbly lowered, the beloved Third Hokage stepped to the side to reveal Jiraiya, the new Lord Fourth, wearing his hat and overcoat. This time, the reverence was not practiced. Feeling like he was lighter than air, the Yondaime stepped forward. The crowd shouted his name, threw their fists into the air, and shot confetti. His people accepted him with the sounds of revelry, and the Will of Fire.

* * *

**The streets of the Hidden Leaf Village**   
One hour after the inauguration of Lord Fourth

Nagato and Konan stood to the side as people began to clear out. The ceremony had been wild with excitement and a prevailing sense of patriotism. All true-born Hidden Leaf villagers enjoyed the company of their comrades during the celebrations leading up to the main event these past few weeks, but that didn’t seem to extend to their little trio. Every time someone went to include them, they quickly realized who they were, and averted their eyes. That rejection had stung more than she realized at first, Konan admitted uncomfortably, stubbornly. They wore the headband too, after all. What did it matter if they hadn’t been born here?

Pushing that bitter thought aside, she tried to cheer up by _imagining_ the fun she and her two friends would surely have, and her mood soured further. It wasn’t often that the three of them could get together recently, and the person she most wanted to see was running late.

Again.

Yahiko had been steadily becoming more and more busy with missions over the last six months or so. She knew why, of course. It was the only way to secure a recommendation for promotion to the rank of Jōnin, outside of a field promotion. The Leaf’s elite ninja class was a hard strata to infiltrate, and he was the only one of the three that was still a Chūnin. She and Nagato, having broken through that barrier by pure skill, both understood how desperately he had wanted to catch up to his friends, and her heart broke for him. Though, even with the increased distance, their relationship was stronger than ever before. They all shared the status of Leaf ninja that weren’t truly of the Leaf: shinobi that lacked the inherent Will of Fire that their comrades possessed. Something that was felt most keenly by all three of them during times like this.

A different sort of connection bonded the three of them, however. The sort of link that cannot be broken so easily as regular friendships. Orphaned by war, sharing what meager scraps of food they could scrounge up, sleeping in whatever burned out, old townhouse or abandoned building, under any tree that could keep out the rain. _That damned, eternal rain._ Just thinking about it made her bones cold, and she shivered despite the warm summer air.

That kind of friendship was hard to destroy. But that wasn’t the only thing that kept her belated friend in her mind. It was something else that made her drift out of consciousness at night, dreaming of evenings with chilly air and hot cocoa, dancing to music on the radio, and a shock of orange hair...

“He’s late.” She complained, mostly to herself, shaking her head and the thoughts away with it. Nagato looked up towards the sky.

“I’m sure he’s on the way. You know he would never miss out on a chance to spend time with us.” _He sounds so sure_ , she thought. _I wish I was as confident as him_. Instead, she just grunted. Silence fell between the pair, and Nagato turned his gaze to the platform where Lord Fourth had been inaugurated so shortly ago.

“Sensei didn’t say a word. I wonder what was going through his head?” He shifted and stretched his long, pale arms. “He’s always had an issue with self-confidence, though. You’d think a man that got turned down by Lady Tsunade a few dozen times, yet still keeps trying, would have the confidence of a god.”

She had to consider both points. It was true that Tsunade of the Senju clan was a hard, stubborn woman. Dealing with her the few times that she had gave Konan a stark respect for the woman. She knew enough about her to know that her past was dark, and talking of it would usually bring about an early, and unscheduled, colonoscopy.

However, Jiraiya the Toad Sage, her sensei and the new Yondaime Hokage, always seemed to dance around the subject without invoking Tsunade’s wrath. He deftly poked and prodded, asking probing questions and quickly reeling back when his childhood friend reared her angry head at him. It was like a game the two of them played, both knowing their roles by heart and never deviating from the path. He knew about her past, of course. The two had been on a team together under Lord Third, along with Nagato’s new mentor Orochimaru.

But he seemed to only ask these questions for the benefit of his students, when they were around. A chance for them to get to know the pent-up kunoichi without having to risk angering her themselves. _A shield for the shieldless_ , she mused. That took a certain amount of guts, she had to admit. One did not simply anger the strongest woman alive without repercussions. Except, the Toad Sage himself. Even Orochimaru tread lightly around the subject of Tsunade’s past. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume the raunchy young man had no qualms about any decision he ever made. Yet…

Yet the Jiraiya sensei that Konan knew had issues with self-doubt that could sometimes be crippling. During their tutelage, the three of them had gotten to know their sensei inside and out. Externally, he very rarely second-guessed himself, except when a plan on a mission put them in harm’s way but couldn’t be avoided. Outside of missions, he exuded an air of outright arrogance, like he had never been wrong in his life. One could almost believe it. Almost.

Internally, she was sure, every choice was a struggle. Having the lives of three young orphans that thought you infallible couldn’t have been easy to handle, she reflected somewhat guiltily. _How could we have known that asking what we did would cause so much suffering for you, sensei?_

Pouting, she tried to clear her mind of her sensei’s troubles, when suddenly—

A flash of orange, and a cloud of dust from a sudden impact pulled her fully out of her ruminations. Her heart skipped a beat. Yahiko stood from his landing crouch and dusted himself off, the late afternoon sun accentuating his flaming orange hair and eyes as dark as coffee. She was sure her cheeks were burning, (how _couldn’t_ they have? He was _right there!_ ), and her voice failed her when those incredible eyes scanned her face. He frowned slightly, his brow scrunching together in a way that made her blush even harder. _There’s no way he doesn’t see. I’m done for._ Yahiko leaned forward and squinted.

“You got a fever, Konan? Shouldn’t be out then. Or at least, you should be wearing a mask.” He, mercifully, straightened up, and Konan cleared her throat.

“Never mind that! Where have you _been_ , Yahiko? You _said_ you didn’t _have_ a mission today.” The tone of her voice was perhaps a bit too harsh, but she’d do anything to draw the attention away from her burning face. Yahiko frowned slightly, a pang of regret piercing her heart, and he sighed. Rubbing his neck, the boy averted his gaze to the ground, not brave enough to face his friend’s fury.

“I’m sorry, you guys. I mixed up today with tomorrow. I had an A-rank bandit camp clean-up a few kilometers outside the village scheduled for this afternoon, while I have tomorrow completely off. But I’m here now!” He smiled, _that damn smile,_ and Konan’s blood pressure rose again. She quickly turned her nose up, like she was more annoyed at being inconvenienced than anything else. The sunlight helped to hide the pink racing across the whole lower half of her face, and Nagato just chuckled

“Well? Let’s go get something to eat. I’m _starving!_ ” And with that, the trio set off towards the culinary district. A disagreement about always trying to be on time quickly heated up between the two boys. She couldn’t help the smile that came with the exchange of their passionate arguments. She loved being with these two idiots. Her best friends in the world.

* * *

 **ROOT safehouse, somewhere in the Hidden Leaf Village**  
Late at night, a few hours after the inuaguration of Lord Fourth

In a dark and dusty room, Lord Danzo sat waiting for his agent to return. He hated relying on his subordinates, operating from the shadows. He was a warrior at heart: meeting your enemy on the battlefield and besting them through sheer force. That was his way. That _had_ been the way of the Leaf, and the Land of Fire.

Until Hiruzen Sarutobi had been named the Sandaime Hokage.

He had not hated Hiruzen then. In fact, he had realized after the inauguration that Lord Second had chosen correctly. The weight of the Sarutobi clan gave Hiruzen the political clout he needed to rein in the other clan leaders, still anxious from the first war. Danzo had been proud to help and advise his friend. But the Sandaime had spent too much time after his administration was stabilized attempting to satiate the whiny clan leaders.

He had wasted countless nights trying to sway his friend to the use of force to keep the clans in line. He was swiftly, and harshly, reprimanded. Peace is king, Hiruzen had said. _They are our_ allies, _Danzo. Not the enemy you see in every shadow._ How naïve he had been, Danzo sneered. And how naïve he still was. Tearing a village apart from the inside, by your own people turned against you, was easier than being destroyed from the outside. _You can defend against a foreign enemy, but will you slay your brethren turned traitor to protect the Hidden Leaf, Hiruzen?_ He believed he knew the answer.

Outside the village, Hiruzen Sarutobi was known as a ruthless spymaster, utilizing any and all forms of espionage at his disposal. ANBU special forces, infiltration teams, and plain old spies were common-use to the Sandaime. That, too, had ruffled Danzo. The Land of Fire controlled a sizable amount of ninja, and the Daimyo was bound to the village by virtue of his daughter’s marriage to Lord Third. Any foe that stood before them, between the people Danzo fought for and _peace_ , could be crushed without a second thought. Yet his one-time friend insisted on meaningless debate and negotiation. _It will only end in our destruction,_ he thought to himself.

Frowning, he reached for the pot of tea and poured himself a cup. _It does no good, however much we mean, to sit and stew on old grudges._ Some tea ought to calm him down, he wagered. Getting worked up over the operations of the _old_ administration would only serve to distract him from gaining access to the _new_.

Behind the grizzled middle-aged man, the door’s rusty old hinges creaked noisily as it swung open. He didn’t bother looking to see who it was. All his agents were the same to him: tools to be used for the greater good. One or the other, it made no matter to him which of the ROOT agents came to report, so long as the information collected got back to him.

He waited for the signature creak of the floorboard, indicating they had knelt, to address them. Only, it never came. _It must be one of the newest recruits. I will have to teach this brat a lesson_. He turned, ready to set the rookie straight. What he saw instead made his words catch in his throat.

Standing in the doorway was the most cunning, and therefore most _dangerous_ , of his rival’s students. Orochimaru, the ninja said to be more snake than man, pushed the door back into place. It latched closed with an audible click.

“Orochimaru.” Danzo said dryly. “Hardly the one I was expecting.” The other man nodded and took a step forward, reaching for the sword strapped to his back.

“Lord Danzo. I suppose I wouldn’t be too surprised if you had known I was coming,” a slimy smirk appeared on his lips. “If your sneaky little Mouse had succeeded, that is. But snakes hunt mice, isn’t that so?” Danzo’s mouth went dry. _So, she was discovered. Shame. I rather wouldn’t have wanted to train a replacement._

Danzo started to rise, and the standing man slid his sword from its sheath in a pale flash of the dim candlelight. He set it against Danzo’s neck, and he went back to resting on his knees. His face was unreadable, except for his predatory green eyes. _Hunger. He sees only an animal of prey._ Knowing he was in no position to make demands, he waited. Orochimaru studied him for a moment and gently slid the blade up Danzo’s throat, towards his chin. The scrape against his skin sent shivers down his spine. He wasn’t afraid, though. Danzo wasn’t afraid of anything.

“The agent was well-hidden, I must say. Any normal ANBU or Jōnin patrol wouldn’t have spotted her.” There was a slight hint of respect in his voice. It melted quickly away, replaced with dry contempt.

“But we both know I’m not normal. So. Why?” He asked simply, almost conversationally. Danzo knew what he was asking. The spy had been a necessary step, if a bit brazen on his part. Being on Hiruzen’s council, he was privy to all the goings-on of the village. Inside and outside affairs were easily accessible to him. But now, Jiraiya was Hokage, and the invitation to his council seemed to have gotten lost in the mail. That, or Jiraiya had no intention of seating him among his advisors.

“The Yondaime failed to include me in his council meeting. You and I both know that nothing goes on in this village without my input. That won’t change now,” Danzo ground out. The blade shone again as Orochimaru adjusted it to sit right below his Adam’s apple. He refused to show fear. _Greater men have done worse. I am not just any man, but Danzo of the Leaf._

“Wrong answer,” came the cold reply. As cold as the steel in his hands, the look in his eyes, the blood in his veins. _Shame, he would have been a wonderful agent._

The blade shifted again, this time pressing deeper into Danzo’s throat. A thin line of blood appeared where the skin parted. Yet Danzo refused to be afraid. “Don’t you want to know,” he said coolly, ignoring the katana at his neck. “How they died?” It worked. Of course it did. The orphaned boy still lived inside his heart, and now it spoke through him, lowering the katana just enough for Danzo’s mind to begin to ease.

“Speak, old man. Then you die.” His eyes had lit on fire, if that were even possible. A hot anger replaced the cold, killing glare. Danzo raised a hand to his neck and rubbed the thin cut, a bit itchy now.

“They were my people,” he said calmly. “They worked for me, trained in ROOT since childhood. When I found out they had an offspring, I ordered them to kill the child. They disobeyed, and died believing that they were true ninja of the Leaf.”

Orochimaru’s face twisted in a range of emotion that no snake could mimic, revealing that he was in fact, just a man. _A bitter and angry man, but just a man._

“Then they died better than you lived.” He pulled the katana back a few inches, ready to take Danzo’s head off. Just then, a clank of metal on wood stole Orochimaru’s attention away, only for a split second. Yet it was all that was needed. Danzo leapt backward into the small table, and in the clatter of the smoke bomb canister exploding and the antique porcelain tea set smashing to bits, Danzo rushed past the younger man into the hallway.

“Shit!” Orochimaru cursed, coughing through the smoke. “Shit, shit, _shit!_ ” He raced into the hallway after Danzo, and was met with two— no, _three_ — of the damned ROOT agents that would gladly die for the slippery bastard. And, if he had anything to say about it, they would.

The first one came at him silent as a ghost. The flash of steel was all that announced the strike. No grunt, or the sound of air parting before the blade. It was all he could do to blindly swipe upward and, just in time, parry the cut. The second agent came then.

Flashing quick hand signs, the agent brought their hand up to their mouth. Orochimaru recognized the pattern for the Fire Ball jutsu, and dove out of the way. The heat was beyond intense, especially in this tight little corridor. Clenching his teeth, he gave ground and jumped back into a defensive position. He firmly planted his back against the wall and braced himself for another onslaught.

The burning walls produced a thick, black smoke that dimmed the corridor beyond. The agents were there, waiting for him to let his guard down, he was sure of it. His eyes flicked back and forth to the fire spreading toward him on the timber walls and where the second ninja had been. Nothing. There were no sounds except for the burning walls. Through the stench of the smoke, a new smell reached his nostrils. A sickly, sweet smell that was eerily similar to…

His eyes widened. _Oil. Could the insane bastard_ actually _have planned this?_ Before he could get his thoughts in order, three small, spinning objects pierced the smoke and rushed towards him. _Shuriken_ , he realized too late.

He deflected all three of the ninja stars, but not the two kunai that came after. They pierced his right arm to the bone and through to the other side, pinning his sword arm to the wall. He dropped his katana and grunted in pain. _These are sharp,_ he thought, cursing every failed attempt to pull his appendage free. _These are either specially made, or chakra enhanced. Either way, this isn’t good._

The fire crawled closer. The scent of oil was unmistakable now. Cheap stuff, the type of oil Danzo had chosen. Yet no less likely to burn him alive. Thinking through all his options, he reflected that it had been stupid to come alone. He should’ve accepted Jiraiya’s offer of an ANBU escort. Too late for that, now.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to adjust his right arm. A lance of pain shot from the base of his arm in the socket to the base of his wrist. _Yep_ , he thought. _Definitely broken. I would be impressed if I weren’t about to die so horrifically._

Flexing his muscles, he found it wasn’t necessarily the bone being broken that caused the immobility. He had been right to suspect chakra enhancement. That same chakra was what kept him super-glued to the wall. He reached up and gave a tentative tug on the kunai and sighed exasperatedly when he failed to remove it. The fire was getting closer, and his options fewer with it.

The glowing reflection of the fire coming from the ground below his field of vision caught his attention. There, laying on the ground with the blade facing towards him, was his katana. A sickening, yet potentially life-saving idea, came to him. He grit his teeth and set all his weight in his left foot.

Using his right, he stomped on the blade near the hand guard and sent chakra to the bottom of his foot, sealing it to the sole of his combat boot. A moment of triumph, tempered by the heat of the now oil-enhanced fire creeping hungrily towards him. He slowly lifted it up and, with his left hand, reached toward the hilt that was to the right of his foot. He had almost reached it when his right arm was struck with pain once again. He almost lost concentration when he saw a third kunai had struck him between the elbow and shoulder. _Shit_ , he cursed. _They’re still here after all this time._ A figure stepped through the flames wearing a black cloak and a fox mask.

He knew what he had to do. Gathering his courage, he gave a yell of determination and reached for the blade. His fingers closed around the too-hot, too-sharp steel the same moment his arm snapped completely where the third kunai had struck. His fingers were wet with blood, yet he didn’t dare let go for fear of dropping it altogether.

The figure drew closer, then stopped, seeming not to expect the stupidly defiant, stubborn, _not-dying_ he had just seen. It was all the hesitation Orochimaru needed. Releasing the chakra holding the blade in place, he threw the katana into the air and caught the hilt of the weapon with the blade facing toward his crippled right arm. He clenched his teeth, and sent the last remaining bit of his chakra into the blade like Hiruzen-sensei had taught him.

The blade easily sliced through his flesh, muscle, and sinew. Pain was an afterthought to his instinct to flee. The instant he was free, Orochimaru dashed toward the ROOT agent with more ferocity than he had ever felt in his life. The brazen self-mutilation and sudden emancipation of his victim had caught him so off-guard that he didn’t even try to defend himself. Orochimaru didn’t fail to take advantage of this, and killed the man with a swipe to the throat. Barreling through the smoke and, the now dead man’s companions, he sprinted towards the exit he had come in. They shouted after him and gave chase half-heartedly, but he was good as gone.

The fresh night air was a god-send, though he didn’t have much time to enjoy it. He ran as far as his tired, burnt legs could take him. Even when he collapsed the thought of pursuing ROOT agents was dominant in his mind. Panting, he reached into his back pocket and, with blood covering the retrieved summoning scroll, rolled it out until it hit a rock and stopped. He laid his hand down gently, positive the amount of blood flowing freely from his decimated fingers was enough. In a puff of white smoke, a small purple serpent appeared. It stuck its tongue out and tasted the air, waiting for orders.

“J-Jiraiya,” he managed weakly. “Find… find Jiraiya. Send h.. help.” His last few words were spoken to empty air, as the serpent had moved immediately to find the white-haired giant of a man. He closed his eyes for a moment. _Just a moment of rest,_ he told himself. When he opened them again, the moon was starting to set. Had he really been gone that long? He shut them again and, this time being sunrise when he opened them, could swear he heard his name being called. There were a few voices, but chief among them was the worried baritone of Jiraiya the Toad Sage.

“Ji… raiya!” He called pitifully. There was a pause, and he could hear some motion below. Maybe they were near. He began to crawl forward, over the blood-soaked, used-up summoning scroll. He didn’t care though, Jiraiya was nearby. Safety.

The sounds started up again as somebody scrambled up the tiny hill Orochimaru just now realized he must have been on all this time. It was a young-ish boy with a shock of orange hair, then a girl with straight blue hair joined him. She gasped at the sight of him, and went back down the ledge. The last thing he saw before falling into the void of unconsciousness was the face of his best friend, Jiraiya, cresting the hill.

He lost consciousness just as his friend began to lift him up, and over his shoulder.


	2. Conversations in the Dark

**Hidden Leaf Village**

Sometime after the raid on ROOT safehouse no. 3

Darkness surrounded him. He heard and felt. Voices called out, telling him to hold on. Pain was the only response to the voices. Burning, stinging pain. He wanted so badly to let go. There were people waiting for him just beyond the veil, so tantalizingly _close,_ yet so frustratingly far away. The veil, so thin, was finally within his grasp. The face of his friend Jiraiya appeared before him, seeming as if it planned to make an impassioned plea.

 _Get out of my way,_ he growled in his mind. _I have people I need to see once again._ He reached forward with his right hand, which for some reason felt lighter than air. He tried to grab it with his other arm, but when he did, it turned out to be a white snake instead. The snake hissed and began to shed its scaly skin. He felt some sadness watching it go but knew that snakes don't leave their homes forever. Looking back up, he saw the face stubbornly staring. He tried again to shove it aside, yet it persisted. He bared his teeth menacingly, and the face began to shift.

This other face was less familiar, and it took his smoke-addled mind a moment to recognize it. Yet once he did, his heart wept with both sorrow and joy. His mother, or as near to her true face as he could recollect, was standing just on the other side of the veil. He could hardly believe what he saw.

“Is it-... I… could it really be you?” The hoarse croak that came from his lips surprised him. That was the most he’d been able to say in hours, though it felt like days in this dark place. The shade of his mother just stared.

Hesitantly, he began to reach with his other hand. It did not turn into a snake nor did it molt its skin. He was glad for it, because every rising inch of his hand felt harder than the last. Finally, his hand stretched out between himself and the veil. It shifted when he tried to touch it. _Why does it refuse me?_ This time, he reached for the veil in earnest. His entire hand opened up to clutch at the ethereal fabric, and it closed around the darkness that he stood in.

“ _Why?!”_ He screamed in rage. “Why can’t I come to you? _Why_ am I _still denied you?_ ” The shade tilted it’s head like it had never been asked why. Instead, it returned a question with a question.

“Do you want to die that eagerly?” It asked. The question stunned him. He took a step back, now realizing what the veil meant.

“Am… am I still alive?” He asked through clenched teeth, fearing the answer. She made no move to give him the information he seeked, her head still cocked to the side. Had she been like this in life?

“No.” He said finally. “I want to live, to master all jutsu in this world. To protect the Hidden Leaf with those powerful jutsu.” At that, the shade frowned.

“One cannot hope to live that long.” Orochimaru sneered and turned his head to the side, pretending to study the eternally shifting veil between life and death. He had heard the same thing from Jiraiya and Tsunade both. Yet he still didn’t have a good answer to that simple truth.

“I will find a way,” he said to the shade. “A way to forever toe the line between life and death. A way to protect those I love for all eternity.”

She eyed him with what he would attribute to curiosity, but he couldn’t be certain here. She shrugged. “The things you must do to attain this… ability. It would strip you bare of your soul.” Her eyes followed his, and he made a noise of exasperation, turning away from the veil and the shade. _She doesn’t understand either._

“What does it matter if the cost of knowledge is my soul?” He muttered. “I have nothing except my jutsu. I _am nothing_ except my jutsu.” At that, she frowned.

“No, my son. I know you are—“ she was interrupted by his angry blow against the veil, making the shimmering blue ethereal fabric shudder and bend. His look was harsh, filled with anger and sadness, the first hint of tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.

“What do you know about me?! You’re the shade of a woman twenty-five years _dead_.” He breathed heavily, pulling his clenched fist back. In the silence she just stared. Angrily, he shouted at her. “Answer me!”

“I know that the pursuit of ultimate knowledge would push everyone you loved away. And I know that would break you.” He flinched and closed his eyes. She knew more than he thought. Why shouldn’t she know that his friends were his greatest weakness? But still, couldn’t she understand that it was _because_ of his friends that he had to do these things?

He shook his head. “I… I don’t see any other way. Any other path than this feels… _wrong._ I have to. I _must_ become the strongest.” He knew that he sounded like a raving madman, and it showed on her face.

“If you continue down this path, grave things will happen. You will harm and kill the very people you aim to protect.” He stared at her; not sure he should believe it.

“Why would I do that to them? I want to _protect_ them!” Tears were building. He didn’t understand.

She nodded. “Yet it is the way you would go about attaining your immortality, and ultimately the dark paths you would go down, that would set you at odds. They will never see, as you do, the path to peace.”

He shut his eyes and let the tears fall freely. “So, what do I do? If I’m not strong enough, then...” He trailed off, unable to complete the thought aloud. _They’ll die like you._

She considered him a moment. He felt her eyes probing and searching. They had deftly found the crack in his armor and stripped him of it.

“Have you considered that the possibility of their deaths is what makes their lives special?” The question was so strange that he almost laughed. “What,” he said through half-contained giggles. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t _try?_ ”

She let him cackle himself to silence and shook her head. “Not at all. Here, let me explain: your father and I loved each other. Our love made you, and our love for you saved your life, allowing you to live.” She came closer to the barrier.

“We were _both_ strong. And that strength didn’t save us.” She eyed him. “Do you see what I’m saying? You could learn the trick to immortality, learn every jutsu this wide world has to offer, and become the strongest shinobi to ever live.

“But the cost of that power will make it all for naught. Your friends, Tsunade and Jiraiya, will fight you to stop what they see as unnatural, and immoral experimentation. It will all go against your grand plan.”

There was silence when she finished. Orochimaru had never stopped to think of the grander picture. With a sickening realization, he knew she was right. No matter how he tried to justify it in his mind, he knew that it would not convince his friends. They would only see the bodies left behind, never the mountain that those bodies would help him climb.

The only two people in the world he cared more about than himself would turn against him. And no amount of power or jutsu was worth it. He nodded slowly. “I… Understand, mother.” He looked up and saw that she was smiling.

“I knew you would. You always made me proud, Orochimaru.” She placed her pale white hand to the shimmering veil. _So close,_ he thought bitterly. _So unfairly near, yet unreachable until my end._

He touched the barrier again, his larger hand covering hers, and she smiled warmly. A smile he would never forget, he told himself. A noise from above him shook his concentration away from the shade, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry, my little ninja. I’ve kept you too long.” Pulling away, she turned and braced herself to walk back into the darkness. He steeled himself, not ready for her to leave. Still, he watched her go, and the noise overhead grew deafeningly loud.

* * *

**Hidden Leaf Hospital**

Mid-morning

The eyes of the pale man sprawled out on the table shot open as he gasped for air, for the first time in nearly ten minutes. His breathing was raspy and infrequent, almost too much so for Jirayia’s liking, but it was there. Relief flooded through him, pushing away the anger and anxiety that had been present since he let Orochimaru leave all alone.

He was standing back in the cramped room, letting the medical ninja do their jobs unimpeded. He, Konan, Nagato and Yahiko were there waiting for the all-clear. Now his friend was finally stabilized, and his three students waited outside where they didn’t have to see the extent of Orochimaru’s injuries.

They had been summoned to help him search not because he distrusted the others under his command, but because he knew precisely that they _could_ be trusted. The delicate nature of Orochimaru’s mission required tight-lipped secrecy. His faith was well-placed. The trio had been eager to help when they knew what the objective was. That kind of dedication to help was a treasure, and he had to be sure they were rewarded for it. The head nurse wiped her brow and glanced at him.

“We have done all we can for the moment, Lord Hokage. If you’d like, we can give you some privacy.” Jiraiya nodded, and the woman ushered her team outside. He sat down by the bed and waited for the door to shut. For a moment, only Orochimaru’s labored breathing and occasional cough interrupted the tense silence. His eyes were shut, like the light was too bright to bear. Jiraiya almost feared he had fallen unconscious again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his head. “I should’ve sent a group of ANBU with you.” Orochimaru coughed, briefly silencing the Hokage. He began to sit up, then thought better of it. Looking at Jiraiya, he gave a lazy grin. “What, all that trouble for little old me? Please.” He laid his head back and shut his eyes again. The words Jiraiya _wanted_ to say were held back only by his immense relief. Instead, he shook his head in amazement.

“You crazy _bastard._ ” He broke into a smile. “I can’t believe you cut off your own arm. And you did it in a ROOT safehouse!” He laughed. A deep, belly laugh that could be heard down the hall. Orochimaru returned a polite chuckle.

“What can I say? I’m a daredevil at heart.” He broke into a light coughing fit, and Jiraiya handed him a styrofoam cup of water. He gulped it down greedily, thanking his friend before trying to sit up once more. This time, Jiraiya assisted him. He grunted his thanks and looked straight into Jiraiya’s eyes.

“I know, I shouldn’t have gone alone. But Danzo _needed_ to be confronted.” He frowned. “But he’s a slippery one. ‘Danzo the Eel’, they should call him.” He nodded satisfactorily at his suggestion, and Jiraiya laid a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll discuss renaming him later. For now, I just need the pertinent details. What did you find? How did the fire start? And, most importantly: _where_ did Danzo run off to?” He squeezed Orochimaru’s shoulder. “Don’t strain yourself: tell me in your own time.”

There was something in his eyes that Jiraiya couldn’t place. Shame for failing his mission? Regret for going alone, or letting Danzo escape? He leaned forward. “Orochimaru?” His friend blinked a few times and shook his head.

“Right, sorry. The safehouse… it was inconspicuous. You wouldn’t look twice: some kind of ramen shop out front, by the name of _Ichiraku_ , if I remember correctly. They probably didn’t even know about it.” He glanced at Jiraiya, who nodded for him to continue.

“I incapacitated four of Danzo’s people patrolling the area before infiltrating. Intended to bring them in,” he said while frowning. “Although by now they were either killed by the fire or freed. Those ROOT agents care nothing for their comrades if it gets in the way of their mission.” A shudder went through him. “That brutality runs deep, down to their very core. Danzo’s work, I'm sure of it.” Jiraiya shared his friend’s frown.

“Could they be… reformed? If we captured them, that is.” Orochimaru shrugged.

“That’s hard to say, Lord Hokage. But by all means, we should try.” He gave him a strange look, and the other man shifted. “They are shinobi of the Leaf,” he said simply.

 _Strange,_ he thought solemnly. _He isn’t usually this optimistic_. “Continue. What was Danzo doing when you came in?”

“Sitting in a small room. I assume he was waiting for his agent, the little spying Mouse.” He licked his lips. “You should’ve seen his face, Jiraiya, when he turned around.” A dry chuckle escaped his lips, then died in his throat. “He blustered, made some nonsense argument that he runs things here in Konoha… then…”

He trailed off, his eyes falling with his voice. Jiraiya leaned forward. “Then?” He prompted.

“Then, he told me that my parents were ‘his people’,” he said softly. “ROOT agents.”

A stark silence fell. Jiraiya was almost too stunned to say anything else. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

“I don’t want to believe it, but it makes a certain kind of sense. All I remember of my parents were their white faces.” He held up his maimed left hand and studied it. “I thought they had skin like mine… what I remember of my mother… she was as white as me.” He looked up at Jiraiya. “I saw her, you know.”

Surprised was an understatement. He listened carefully and silently as Orochimaru recounted his experience. The veil between life and death. Was it really true? His heart _had_ stopped…

Finally, they ran out of things to discuss. Besides the elephant in the room.

“Your arm,” Jiraiya started. “Is missing.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Orochimaru snorted laughter, then gave him a look. “There’s only one person I know that can regrow limbs.” He nodded sternly.

“And sensei said she can come back when her debt is paid. Not before.” He crossed his arms, knowing he sounded ridiculous. It was just a petty excuse not to have to track the kunoichi down.

“Jiraiya,” Orochimaru said softly. “You’re blushing.”

He shot his friend a glare and sighed. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll send a team out to look for her. But _you’ve got to keep quiet_. You hear? Not. A. Word. Got it?” Orochimaru suppressed laughter, nodding his agreement.

“I understand, Lord Hokage.”

Grumbling, Jiraiya rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, but I should return to work. You’ll get along fine without me, I trust?”

Orochimaru’s smile faded, and he nodded curtly. “I always do, Jiraiya.” And with that, he gingerly slid down onto his back and grunted in pain. Knowing a dismissal, Jiraiya stepped out into the hallway and slid the door shut again.

If the phrase was meant to sting, it had worked. Jiraiya frowned. He had been away since the end of the conflict people were now calling the Second Great Ninja War, setting a trend he did not like one bit. During the war, he and his teammates had distinguished themselves as excellent shinobi, and saviors of many battles. One encounter with the Land of Rain’s kage Hanzo had even earned them the title of Sannin.

He did not look back on the war with misty eyes and burning desires for days back in the ceaseless rain. But back in those days, he and his friends had been _together._ Every battle, every mission, he knew that his friends would see him through. Their bond was strong, even now. But after the war ended, fate had seen it fit to scramble them apart. Tsunade’s gambling had driven her out of the village. She wasn’t exiled from the Land of Fire, but she _was_ considered a persona non grata. _At least until she gets lucky, and finally pays off her debts._

That wasn’t very likely, though. Whenever Tsunade won big, she would boast, and drink, and party until it was all gone again. It had gotten to the point where her own clan had denied her access to their funds. That had further caused some of her debts to get so massive that the Sandaime had issued an edict stating she must pay them off first to return home permanently, (she was able to sneak in a time or two a year, though, to visit family and friends). Tsunade the Cheat, as some came to know her, had sealed her own fate.

His own story was too long, and someday he might tell the whole tale to his students. But he, too, had all but vanished after the fighting stopped. He had travelled, writing books, and meeting new people. Hoping to find the one who would fulfill the ancient prophecy… That left just Orochimaru. For the few years between the end of the war and Jiraiya’s inauguration, he had been the only one of their team still at home. _I’m sure that must have been lonely,_ he mused.

The man was stoic, except around Tsunade and Jiraiya. Because of that, he was unfairly compared to snakes. Their dispassionate killing was often mentioned as proof when one examined his great feats of the war. While Jiraiya had to admit that some of what he had done was cold, ruthless, and unnecessary, he was far from emotionless. All he did, he did for friends and country. If only people could see—

His thoughts were cut short when he bumped into someone. He began to mumble an apology before he realized it was Nagato’s dark red hair he saw. The boy quickly rounded on him.

“Watch where you’re going, as—sensei!” He laughed nervously and backed up to his friends. “S-sorry, sensei. I didn’t know it was you.”

Jiraiya waved him off, and Konan interjected. “Is he alright?” Her eyes were big, a large orange iris surrounding a black pupil. Big and innocent and kind. He put on a smile, nodding gregariously.

“Of course he is! It’ll take more than losing an arm to kill that stubborn old snake.” All three teens visibly sagged with relief, and he clapped Nagato on the arm.

“Go, I know you’re dying to see him. Konan, Yahiko, wait up just a moment. I want to thank you personally.” The three exchanged a look. Yahiko and Konan urged Nagato onward. He fled down the hallway towards his master, and Jiraiya let his face relax.

“Thank you, guys. Seriously. Yahiko, your tracking from the facility was a godsend. Orochimaru hardly leaves a trail, by design: so enemies or unwanted friends can’t follow him. But you sniffed him right out.” The boy beamed, hungry as ever for recognition and glory. He turned his gaze to Konan.

“And Konan, your medical ninjutsu on all those burns probably saved his life.” She blushed and smiled. “It seems your time under Tsunade was well-spent.” He crossed his arms, and they leaned forward, recognizing that he was about to say something important.

“And now, I have a favor to ask.” His jaw set tightly. “A big favor.”

* * *

**Hidden Leaf Hospital**

Orochimaru’s hospital room, near noon

“You can’t be serious!” Nagato hissed. His ears burned, and his stomach was rolling end over end. His mentor nodded.

“Our work seemed noble when I recruited you. But now, after what I’ve seen, I realized that the ends don’t justify the means.” He was dead set, Nagato knew. He would not be dissuaded. He felt his shoulder slump.

“So… so what do we do now?” The last three years of his life had been spent in service to Orochimaru to gather and master any jutsu he could find. He was chosen for this work because of his master of all five change in chakra natures at the young age of 10– the youngest of any shinobi, _ever._ That was all in thanks to his ocular jutsu, the Rinnegan.

The Rinnegan, the most powerful of all ocular jutsu, could be traced all the way back to the Sage of Six Paths. A legendary, almost mythological, man, more was forgotten about him than Nagato had ever known. He knew that he had lived a long time ago, and that he had two sons. After that, he wasn’t sure what was true or just plain myth.

And somehow, Nagato didn’t know how, he had come to possess those eyes. Deep, purple rings with a black outline surrounding each ring, all around a smaller black pupil. He didn’t understand what about it made him so susceptible to mastering jutsu, and neither did anyone else, really. But it had caught his master’s attention. The rest, as they say, was history. And now, he wanted to throw all their progress away.

It was _outrageous_. It wasn’t _fair._ Nagato had learned so much, _experienced_ so much, that this news felt like a slap in the face. He couldn’t, in good faith, let it all go without trying to sway his master first. Only, a voice in his head disagreed.

 _You_ already _tried,_ it reminded him. _You still ended up here._ He closed his eyes, and his master sighed.

“I need you to destroy the base. Take fire tags and blow it. We must abandon this course before it pulls us _both_ under. Do you understand?” He waited for a moment before nodding his agreement. Orochimaru nodded.

“Good. Then get going. Don’t report back to me, just see it done.” Without a word, Nagato rose to his feet and went to carry out his master’s orders. He mumbled something about “important work to do, sorry guys,” to his puzzled friends as he passed them in the hall. They didn’t stick around to visit Orochimaru either.

Nagato stopped by his shared lodging with Yahiko to gather his supplies. Plenty of exploding fire tags, a canister of oil, and his flak jacket. Just in case. _You never know, after all_.

Sure he was amply prepared, he started on his way to the base hidden in the hills east of the village. It was the only one he knew of, and knowing it was about to be destroyed broke something inside of him.

The entrance was a secret door hidden in the rock wall. Lifting up a certain rock two and a half inches would activate a mechanism underground and the door would open. When Nagato went to activate it, the door pulled itself inward and opened up a space barely a foot wide. He quickly scuttled over and shimmied through before it started to retract and close.

He just barely made it through. The door shut loudly, dust falling from the carved roof. It was dark, the torches on the wall sat unlit since the last visit. But Nagato’s eyes didn’t need the torches to see he saw night as well as day with these eyes. He saw _everything_ with these eyes if he was looking.

He quickly went inside the main library and sat his backpack down on a dusty table. Pulling it open, he reached inside and pulled out the stack of exploding tags. He wasted no time placing them on structural strong points and the sides of bookshelves. _If I’m to do this thing, I will not do it wrong._

When he ran out of tags, he reached for the oil. It was expensive stuff. Good, quality oil that would burn for a long time in a lamp. It was originally meant to fuel the lights he and his friends used when they were camping out on overnight missions, but it would serve well enough. He poured a line around the library until the container was empty.

He smashed it on the ground and grabbed a scroll from the shelf nearest him. Angrily, he stared at the scroll. He didn’t want to burn these treasures. Why couldn’t his master _see_ what he was ordering to be destroyed? It would be such a shame to destroy all of these scrolls.

Suddenly, an idea came to Nagato. He peeled open the scroll and began to study it. “Son of a bitch,” he said quietly. _I may have to destroy them, but nobody said I couldn’t_ memorize _them first,_ he realized.

Quickly, he spread the scroll and performed the series of hand signs. Once, twice, three times. And the first jutsu was mastered. He paused, in awe of his own genius. _So this is why the old snake wanted me._ Eyeing another rack of scrolls, he dove for them and began tearing them open.

He could not have said how long he was there, mastering jutsu after jutsu, but when he finished the small library he had started in, he was exhausted. _But I’m just getting started,_ the voice in his head said hungrily. _So much_ power _! And it’s all mine for the taking._

Out of nowhere, the door began to shift. Nagato nearly jumped out of his skin and dropped the scrolls he had bundled carefully in his arms. They fell into the oil, and he groaned. Those he had been wanting to take with him, to rescue them. They were so old and worn that he was _sure_ the secrets within were worth the wrath of Orochimaru.

Then, he shook himself. Someone was coming in! He cursed and grabbed his backpack. He ran up to an explosive tag and set it to go off with his chakra before running off towards the emergency back exit. The charges went off with an echoing _bang_ that reverberated throughout the entire base. Nagato was slammed into the wall when the blast hit. His ears rang and bled.

The din from the explosion had nearly deafened him. Groaning and dizzy, he crawled the rest of the way. The exit came up in the darkness, and he shoved his whole weight against it. The fake rock face bulged and fell, taking him down with it. The ground shook and collapsed. He pulled his ankles out, just barely avoiding crippling himself. He lay there for a moment, panting and trying not to vomit. The voices were distant, but he heard them. A man’s, at least one.

“Salamander and Owl did not survive. Lord Danzo will not be pleased.” Nagato’s heart stopped. ROOT was _here_ , and they had almost gotten inside. Holding his breath, he listened until the voices started retreating. Hurting and out of breath, he picked himself up and began walking back toward the village. He didn’t even notice that his backpack was singed and smoldering.

The sun was low in the sky when he found his way to a gate. It was rotting and in disrepair, but when he pushed hard enough it swung open on ancient hinges. It was a tough thing, yet he did it all the same. He vaguely remembered closing it back before trudging through the long-abandoned section of the village. Houses and shops lined the streets with shadowy entrances like open, yawning mouths. Imagine enemies pounced at him when his mind wandered, dragging him back to reality. He wondered why this place was abandoned, but it didn’t matter. Let the ghosts have it if nobody else wanted it.

Stumbling tired through the shadows of this place, he tried to keep his breathing low and quiet. The intruders had startled him more than he wanted to admit. He had always believed his master untouchable, even by the Hokage and the ANBU they commanded. That illusion had been shattered, courtesy of Danzo Shimura and his ROOT agents. It shed a harsh light on just how vulnerable Orochimaru had been these last few years, and how much of a fool he had been to believe such drivel. His master’s old sensei had just ignored it all, however.

Some part of the Third Hokage had been curious, but he trusted his apprentice to a fault. And why shouldn’t he? Orochimaru’s experiments had done nothing to draw attention to him. Some anatomy and study of dead bodies, as far as anyone else knew. But Nagato knew better. _Reanimation jutsu,_ his master had called it. Bring the dead back to life. He wasn’t exactly sure what purpose _that_ would serve. The dead should be allowed to rest, in his opinion. But it was just a steppingstone to the ultimate goal of immortality. Or as close as one could get.

Nagato thought he understood the logic. Every being feared death, none so more than humanity. A deer could live its whole life not understanding that, eventually, it will become prey. It would only understand the fear of death as it fell victim to, and became, some predator’s supper. Humans, however, feared death as young children, and some carried that fear to their deaths. So it made sense that somebody would try to unlock the secret of immortality eventually. But was that sort of life worth it?

If he could live forever, Nagato would probably hate it. Yahiko and Konan would eventually die, along with his sensei and master. He would watch it all and never age. Or worse, he would _continue_ to age. Getting smaller and weaker as the centuries went on, never able to actually reap the rewards of his longevity. But a deeper desire reared its head as soon as he finished that thought: he would be able to master _every jutsu in the world_. Given enough time and hoping that his mind didn’t go with his vitality.

He stopped. Perhaps there _was_ some value in eternal life. Had he managed to stuff some of those immortality scrolls into his pack? He couldn’t remember. Thinking made him realize how rough a shape he was in, and how very tired he was. His arms and legs were sore and aching, burns all along the back of his body, and his ears still rang. Looking around, he realized he was in the middle of the street and that people were staring. Had _been_ staring. Nobody met his gaze for long, and he found that it still hurt just as much as it used to when they looked away. Until his eyes landed on a blonde man with sharp, blue eyes and a bright, genuine smile walking towards him.

He was talking, asking questions that Nagato could barely hear. He had no headband or flak jacket on, but the way he moved screamed to Nagato that he was a shinobi. Agile, confident, poised to strike at any moment. Somehow, the man knew that Nagato was dead on his feet. His injuries were mostly out of sight to the man, yet he _knew._ He had barely reached the boy when his knees gave out. In an instant, he caught Nagato by the armpits and maneuvered himself underneath the exhausted and wounded ninja. Nagato felt his feet leave the earth and the shifted weight of his pack nearly pulled him off. The man was quick to adjust the boy and settle everything before he started moving.

“Can you hear me?” His voice was like a whisper. Nagato gave a small, curt nod. The man returned his nod.

“That’s good. I’m taking you to the hospital, alright? You’re okay now.” Nagato wanted to believe him, so he did.

His eyes drooped closed, and he wanted nothing more than to rest his weary body. So he did.


	3. Is It Okay To Feel Lost, Sometimes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The context of Yahiko and Konan's friendship changes with one simple question. Can they properly explore these feelings when they don't even know what they want from each other, much less themselves?

**The streets of Hidden Leaf village**

Late in the afternoon, after Nagato’s disappearance was reported

Yahiko stared at the pavement as he walked through the busy streets of the Leaf village at night. His friend still hadn’t come back yet, and he was worried. Jiraiya-sensei dispatched the ANBU to look for him after Yahiko had reported earlier that evening that he hadn’t come home. They were scouring the village, looking high and low. Orochimaru had asked for a few to be detached to his command for the time being. Jiraiya-sensei had agreed, but bitterly. If the pale man knew where his apprentice was, he didn’t want to share with the Hokage. Yahiko also asked to help.

“Only until sunset,” his master had said. And so it had gone.

He went to every place that he, Konan and Nagato had visited recently. He was disappointed to find absolutely no trace of his friend. With his spirits considerably low, he decided to make one last stop at Konan’s apartment. His hand had been perfectly poised to knock when he hesitated. Did he really want to worry Konan? Nagato was her friend too, but did it do any of them any good to tell her _now,_ at the end of his allotted time to search?

Biting his lip, he cursed himself. Pulling his hand away he turned to leave, and the door handle began turning. The door opened, and Konan stepped out wearing a plain purple cotton T-shirt and long blue sweatpants. Her frown was just as cute as her smile.

“What are you doing here, Yahiko?” Her voice was playful, and he felt himself relax as he faced her.

“Oh, uh… nothing really.” He met her eyes, a deep orange the color of sunsets. “I’m just… have you seen Nagato? Since the hospital, this afternoon?” The surprise on her face told him what he needed to know.

“Nagato? Why, has something happened?” She stepped outside the doorway and shut it completely behind her. He was suddenly aware of the faint scent of her perfume, the scent Lady Tsunade had given her for her last birthday.

“Not sure. He never came home after visiting with Orochimaru-sensei. I’m just checking.” She nodded and glanced at the sunset.

“Mind if I join you?” Her eyes turned back to him. Beautiful, orange eyes. Eyes the color of… oranges. Tangerines, maybe? (He was doing his best, alright?)

“Sorry. Sensei only gave me until sunset.” He let out an explosive breath, and she jumped. “That’s not enough _time_ , dammit. He could be anywhere!” The anxiety that had been growing since he realized Nagato was missing finally exploded. He started pacing back and forth. Konan relaxed a bit and, smiling, attempted to lay a comforting hand on his arm.

“I’m sure he’s fine—,” she tried to assure him, but before she could finish, he rounded on her.

“Fine? _Fine?!_ He’s been missing for hours! Do you even care?!” The slap came out of nowhere. Konan’s hand, quick as a snake, whipped from her waist to Yahaiko’s cheek in less than a second. The blow was both powerful and surprising. Yahiko stumbled back a few steps into the railing, eyes wide and cheek stinging. Konan gasped, her eyes widening as well.

“Y-Yahiko, I’m so sorry, I— I don’t know what came over me.” She took a step or two forward and tried to touch his cheek where she slapped him. He jerked his face away from her hand and ducked towards the stairs.

“it’s fine. Was a jerk, don’t sweat it,” he mumbled. His pride was more wounded than his cheek, and he quickly went down the steps. He took them two at a time and jumped to the middle platform below. Konan finally seemed to stir herself, running swiftly to catch up.

“Hey, wait up. Yahiko, _listen to me!_ ” But he felt like doing neither. He kept up the ridiculous chase until they were on the ground level: him brooding and running, her calling his name and giving chase. Hearing her bare feet pitter-patter on the stone walkway, he slowed up a bit. He couldn’t say why, but he wanted so badly to apologize. Of _course_ Konan cared. He had crossed a line, earned the slap. It still upset him though. She grabbed his arm firmly and yanked him to a halt.

“Yahiko!” She breathed exasperatedly, and he saw she was panting. He realized his own breath came a bit hard and fast, too. Turning halfway, he refused to meet her gaze. Choosing to look anywhere but those perfect orange orbs, he grunted.

“What? You made your point.” The friendly atmosphere was gone, had been killed the instant he turned his wrath on her. _It’s my fault,_ he reflected glumly. Konan gave no hint that the gruff rebuttal hurt her any more than his accusation had.

“Look at me,” she said softly, no trace of anger or hurt in her voice. He grit his teeth. She always did this when they fought. When he didn’t, she leaned to where he could just barely see her face in his peripheral vision. She always did that, too, when he ignored her.

“Look. At. Me.” She repeated. He obeyed this time. His coffee brown eyes met her sunset orange ones, and for a moment neither one of them spoke. Try as he might, he just couldn’t keep up the tough-guy act when he looked at her. Like a lightning rod, her eyes absorbed all the anger out of his tired, anxious, worried muscles. His whole body sagged and with it came a sigh just as weary. He leaned against the wall and slumped down to a seated position. She squatted down next to him and studied his face.

“Nagato will be fine.” She sounded so sure of herself that he looked up at her and felt the truth of her words. A steady calm filled him, and he blinked like it was all so obvious. What was he thinking? This was _Nagato_ they were talking about. He laid his head back against the wall and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. Dammit, I’m sorry, Konan. I just…” he trailed off, and she nodded. Squeezing his arm, she lifted it up off the ground and cupped his hand in hers.

“I know,” was all she said. It was all she needed to say. They both remembered the many times he had gone without food just so she and Nagato could eat what little they had. It had been a hard war, and hard wars always drained the food supply. Not even orphans could beg hard enough to earn full bellies back in those times. “I forgive you, Yahiko. It’s alright. After everything you’ve done? It’s more than alright.”

He made eye contact with the kunoichi in front of him and studied her features. She was no longer the little girl that was like his sister. Where she used to have skin so tight you could see bones, there was now a healthy, toned amount of muscle. Where once he skipped meals just to feed her, they shared instant ramen and cookies and chips and sodas. All because they could, because of the generosity of the Third Hokage. Where once he saw the girl that was just a friend, he now saw someone different. He saw… what, exactly?

Her face was nice to look at, and her eyes, _God,_ he could get lost in them. If only he never had to blink or sleep. Her cheeks were soft and round, and her chin was the perfect ratio of roundness to complete the set, making up her perfect face. Her nose was long and slender, straight as an arrow and not too big. Pretty, even. Lastly, her lips. Oh, boy, her lips. As a boy he had never thought about kissing so often as he did now, and every time he did, he knew exactly what lips he wanted to kiss. Full and soft, though not too big. She didn’t need lipstick to make him sweat, yet the few times he’d seen her wear it sent his heart into overdrive. If he needed to describe her in one word, it would be _perfect._

“Yahiko?” She asked again. He blinked and saw that she was blushing slightly. _I was staring_ , he thought, and started blushing too. His internal temperature must’ve risen to 10,000 degrees.

“A-ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to… um, I’ll just get going.” He looked away and pushed himself to his feet. She looked down and stood as well. She wrung her hands together and spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Y-you don’t have to go… I wouldn’t mind the company.” She was inviting him to stay, he realized. She glanced up, red as a beet and hopeful. _God forgive me,_ he thought. _I have to decline in a way that lets her save face_. Internally, he wanted nothing more than to stay, and see what happened. God, did he ever. But he needed to find Nagato, or at least report his failure to the Hokage. He touched her arm gently and spoke softly in the most soothing voice he could manage.

“Konan… I’m not saying no, just… not right now. Not—,” in an instant, Konan mumbled something that sounded like ‘sorry’ and bolted for the stairs. He called after her, and she ignored him. He watched her run up all three flights of stairs and then disappear around the corner. He growled in anger, but not at her. Never at her.

“Idiot!” Kicking the ground in his rage, he balled his fists. “You completely embarrassed her. Stupid, _stupid_ man.” Turning, he meant to follow after her. He made it halfway up the second flight of stairs when one of Konan’s neighbors started down. He didn’t know their name, but the woman stopped and gave him a look that made him queasy. _How many of them heard?_ He couldn’t bear the shame that her eyes made him feel. She knew. And she was accusing him.

He turned and fled down the stairs as quickly as he could, running until his feet met stone, then he kept on running. He ran all the way back to his apartment and burst in through the door. Slamming it shut, he fell back into it and slid to the floor. Only this time, nobody came to comfort him. He sat there, catching his breath, and reprimanding himself for a long time. The heat he gathered from his run, along with the tightness of his flak jacket, was starting to become too much for Yahiko to handle. But he didn’t take it off.

He would sweat, he decided, until his shame wore off. His long run across the village, along with his rage at humiliating Konan and his inability to find Nagato, had exhausted him. Hunger tugged at him too, but he ignored it. Food was too good for him. When he felt like he had tortured himself enough, he pulled the zipper down on his flak jacket and shrugged it off. The cool night air coming from an open window was all he thought he deserved. He had never seen Konan so red and embarrassed. He would’ve laughed if he hadn’t thought she would never speak to him again.

Yahiko sat there all night. Somewhere off near Konan’s apartment, someone was setting off fireworks. Probably leftovers from the Hokage ceremony. The smoke left behind reminded him of the smoke that had been coming from the burnt-out ramen shop, Ichiraku’s, all day. The rumors that the owner had left a stove on by accident, causing the place to burn down, or that it was all planned so he could file a false insurance claim, had already begun spreading. He knew that it was really the result of Orochimaru-sensei’s battle with ROOT, but half the village didn’t even believe the ANBU existed, much less an evil offshoot organization. He rose briefly to get a glass of water and a snack, then returned to his seat to rest and ponder.

It had only been a day since Jiraiya-sensei became Hokage. Already, Yahiko was sensing a shift in the power dynamic. He didn’t know what exactly the shift was, but he felt it, nonetheless. It had been a crazy 48 hours, and with the new mission he had been given just a few hours ago, it would only get crazier. He drank his water until the glass was half empty and then set it down to eat his microwaved food. Exhaustion wanted to claim him, and he knew a good, hot shower would put him right to sleep. He was not one to deny his body, so he stood and closed the window before going into the bathroom and shedding his sweaty, sticky clothes. The water was hot and ready for him when he stepped in. Half an hour later, he was asleep in his bed. It was only when he woke the next morning that he remembered he never reported back to the Hokage.

* * *

**Lord Hokage’s office**

The next morning

“I see. And what was he doing, besides wandering around aimlessly?” Jiraiya asked the man sitting across from him. The blond hair and blue eyes of his former student always made the ladies go wild. Minato Namikaze had only ever seen one woman, much to Jiraiya’s heartbreak. He was a ladies’ man at heart, though only for his wife. Minato rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“How should I say this? He was making hand seals. Over and over again, only in a combination that never made any sense to me. He also kept saying something I couldn’t hear, although it stopped when I approached.” He frowned slightly. “ I can’t say for sure, just that I saw him in need and decided to help.”

Jiraiya nodded and sat back. “Well, thank goodness he’s alright. No major injuries, and his hearing will return with time. Descendants of the Uzumaki clan have exceptional healing abilities.” That last comment was aimed mostly at Minato’s red-headed bride, Kushina. The angry kunoichi had always healed quickly, and her clan was renowned for its special chakra-related healing techniques. The gesture wasn’t lost on Minato. He was as sharp as ever.

“I see. So this… Nagato, was it? He’s an Uzumaki as well. That confirms what I thought, sensei.” His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his voice. “Though, a Rinnegan user roaming freely in the village? Are you sure that’s wise sensei?” A twinge of anger flared in Jiraiya’s gut. He had seen these kids grow, from war orphans scared of their own shadow to admittedly splendid shinobi. They had earned the Leaf headband, and he would not discredit them in private.

“Nagato is as noble a shinobi as myself, or Orochimaru. Don’t question his loyalty in front of me. I won’t stand for it even from you, Minato.” The blond man stiffened and nodded curtly.

“I... understand, and apologize. My intent was not to offend.” His jaw clenched. “Only to… understand, I suppose. What are they… I mean to say, what are three former Rain shinobi _doing here_ , sensei?”

Jiraiya steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and thought about the question. His student gave no indication of impatience. He finally sat forward.

“I saw the potential in those three. And I figured it would be a shame to let them fall into harm’s way. So I asked Hiruzen-sensei to allow me to foster them here. He agreed. Long story short, he gave them headbands as they had proven their skill level to be at least genin-equivalent, and the rest is history. Let it not be said, though, that they haven’t earned their current ranks. Two of them are Jōnin, and, if they succeed in this next mission, I mean to elevate the third as well.” Minato didn’t look pleased at that prospect but nodded all the same.

“I see.” He was about to say more when there was a polite three knocks on the office door. Jiraiya looked over his shoulder and the clock above the curved window of his office. _Right on time,_ he thought to himself, smiling.

“Come in,” he said conversationally. The door opened, revealing a usually dour-looking Konan accompanied by an unusually uncomfortable-looking Yahiko. The pair were… tense. Awkward, to say the very least. He frowned as they entered. Their arms brushed briefly as they did, and one might have thought they hurtled into each other at the speed of light. Yahiko grimaced, and Konan scooted away in an instant to avoid further contact.

His eyes were wide as saucers as Yahiko pushed the door shut with an all-too-loud slam. A thick silence fell over the room. His eyes flickered in between the two. Konan entirely avoided looking in the general _direction_ of the orange-haired boy. On the other hand, Yahiko couldn’t _stop_ looking at Konan, something like regret or long in his eyes. What in the world had gone on between them? And when Konan’s eyes finally peeled over to the left, Yahiko’s met them. Both of the teenagers quickly looked away, blushing red as roses.

_Oh_.

Understanding dawned on Jiraiya like the rising sun. One of Tsunade’s many bets involving the children had finally come to pass. _One of them made the first move,_ he thought. From her complete and total refusal to look back over towards the left side of the room, he bet that it was probably Konan. Yahiko was also a likely candidate, but he figured that if it were him, Konan would be the one staring.

Minato cleared his throat, and Jiraiya motioned for them to sit. He motioned with his head for his oldest student to move from the chair on his left to the one in the middle, and he did without complaint. It was a poor sort of buffer zone so that the two teenagers didn’t drown the whole room with their awkwardness. Though how well it would work remained to be seen as Konan sat to Minato’s right, and Yahiko to his left.

“Let’s not waste any time. This mission is an S-rank retrieval. The subject is none other than the third and final Sannin of the Leaf, Tsunade Senju.” He let the two newcomers absorb the information. Yahiko had stiffened, while Konan finally lifted her gaze from the carpet. He made sure they comprehended before continuing.

“Her assistance is critical to the recovery of Lord Orochimaru, who as you know, is currently in the Leaf’s hospital recovering from his combat wounds.” He laid out the details of the mission as matter-of-factly as he could in the shortest time possible. He hated the energy that now permeated the room, and was sure the others did, too. They squirmed each time he said the others’ name. Minato, thankfully, sat still and composed.

“Unfortunately, this will be a rocky road. Tsunade is currently suspected to be in the Hidden Stone village. Right across the border of Rain.” Both Yahiko and Konan went pale. Neither seemed happy to be returning home, and Jiraiya felt for them. But he couldn’t show it now. “This is a multi-faceted mission. While the retrieval team will be going after Tsunade, the infiltration team will be responsible for acquiring intel that our spy on the inside never got the chance to send. You will head to the border as one single team, then before the barrier team arrives, Team Two will teleport into the village. Team Two will, of course, be headed by Minato. He specializes in the Teleportation Jutsu, and you should have no trouble getting where you need to go.” He sat back and turned his attention to Konan, who looked surprised to be addressed directly.

“You will lead the retrieval team, hereby known as Team One, and make as much noise when you cross the border as possible. Move as fast as you can, in as many directions as possible, while still holding formation and heading towards the village. While you do that, the barrier team should focus exclusively on you.” Konan blinked, still surprised into stillness. He leaned forward.

“Konan. Do you hear me?” She blinked a few more times, then nodded.

“Yes, sensei. I hear you. But… Why me? I’ve never led a mission before. Only as the second-in-command, never Team Leader.” The doubt in her voice tugged at Jiraiya’s heart strings. He took a breath and pressed on.

“Konan, how long did you study under Tsunade, after the war? A year? Two?” The girl looked away and muttered.

“A year and a half, sensei.” Jiraiya nodded simply.

“That’s why. She knows you, but the Hidden Stone ninja probably won’t. Despite your Jōnin rank, you’ve managed to stay under the radar of the other villages. It will be the key to this mission. They won’t suspect a former student coming to retrieve her for a delicate operation. Maybe something like you’re coming to get her to finally pay off her debts.” He nodded. “You know what? I rather like that idea.”

Yahiko frowned and glanced at his sensei. Jiraiya saw, and knew they were all thinking about his position. He looked at Konan, who turned a stark shade of white, and he made his decision.

“Yahiko, you’ll be on Team Two under Minato.” Both teens visibly relaxed. Yahiko even sighed in relief. Jiraiya would have smiled if it hadn’t been so strange.

“Konan, Minato, you two are dismissed. I’d like you to stay a bit longer, Yahiko.” The two Jōnin stood and left the office without a word, and Jiraiya turned his full attention on his young student. He made sure to stow his Hokage voice and pull out his concerned teacher one instead.

“What happened, Yahiko?” He asked. No preamble. No dancing around it. Straight to the heart of things, like always. Yahiko flushed a pretty shade of pink.

“Konan…” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat before making eye contact. “Konan propositioned me last night.” Jiraiya felt his eyes widen, larger than saucers this time.

_Oh._

For the second time that morning, understanding flooded Jiraiya’s mind like a river after days of heavy rain. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Yahiko, thankfully, filled the silence for him.

”I said no,” he amended quickly. “Although I tried to be nice about it, she ran off anyway.” He frowned and looked away. “Am I… bad? For humiliating her?”

Jiraiya took a moment to gather his thoughts, which were many. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if his students even properly knew what sex _was,_ though he didn’t want to insult their intelligence by asking directly. Instead, he molded his response under the assumption that they did.

“Yahiko,” he began gently. “Rejection is hard for anyone. There isn’t really a way to soften it up, _especially_ when someone offers to have sex with you.” This time, Yahiko’s face was the one that lit up as he understood the context of the previous night’s event. He _seemed_ to understand, at least.

“So… I didn’t do anything wrong?” He sounded hopeful, and Jiraiya nodded slightly.

“So long as you didn’t insult her, I suppose not.” He raised an inquisitive, threatening eyebrow. “You didn’t insult her, _did you?”_ The intended bodily harm was not glossed over. Yahiko quickly shook his head.

“No, sensei! I would never insult her honor, I swear!” His hands bobbed left and right while he fervently shook his head. Jiraiya nodded and sat back.

“Then, I wouldn’t say you were a bad person.” Yahiko lowered his head in relief and sighed loudly.

“Thank goodness… my dad always used to talk about the bad guys that hurt women, and what he’d like to do to them.” He balled his fists. “Though it never stopped him from whoring. I remember mom used to wait up and scold him. But, despite all the grief they gave each other, he would never hit her.”

Jiraiya sat quietly as Yahiko spoke, not wanting to interrupt. His students had pasts that would make a grown man shudder. They rarely opened up to him or each other. Though when you had a friendship like theirs, you didn’t need to know much to trust each other. It was as natural as breathing. Jiraiya sometimes suspected the others didn’t remember their lives before coming to the Leaf. Either on purpose, or because they had repressed it. For Yahiko to be sharing his past, even if it was just a sliver, told Jiraiya he trusted him. _I will not break this sacred trust_ , he vowed.

Yahiko took a breath, looking like he wanted to say more. Instead, he exhaled and looked at the ground, favoring silence over the pain of remembering. Jiraiya decided to proceed with caution. Praise of his father’s words might mean more to the confounded young man before him than condemning his extra-marital affairs. He took a breath, drawing Yahiko’s eyes to his own.

“Your father was a wise man,” he said in a calming tone. “Truly, it gladdens me to hear you carrying on his lessons.” He paused to think for a moment and frowned slightly. “However, I have to ask one thing.” The two studied each other, Jiraiya taking a moment to enjoy the stiff and anxious expression Yahiko had adopted.

“Did you _want_ to?” Before his pupil could interject, he held up his hands. “This isn’t a damnation of your desires, or lack thereof. It’s just a question. Did you want to have sex with Konan, or didn’t you?” Yahiko’s cheeks were so red that Jiraiya believed he could see the Will of Fire deep inside his heart. The nervous, blushing young man turned his head away.

“Yes. God, yes, I wanted to.” He clenched his jaw. Jiraiya just nodded.

“Then why didn’t you?” Yahiko’s face went from defensive in nature to confused. He fumbled for words and stammered, trying to put his own thoughts together. Jiraiya waited patiently, like a good sensei should. He didn’t want to mistakenly guide Yahiko in the wrong direction by telling him to be forceful with his future partners. But still, helping him formulate his _own_ reasons for his refusal would only serve to benefit him. It didn’t take too much time.

“I didn’t want Konan to feel… to feel like she was easy, I guess.” He looked Jiraiya full in the face. “I wanted to, sensei. I won’t deny that, only… she has a lot of pride and self-respect. If I had immediately jumped on her offer, it could’ve made it seem like _I_ didn’t respect _her._ ” He curled his fists into balls and laid them out on his knees. “And I _do._ Too much to risk dishonoring her, no matter how much I wanted to accept.”

Jiraiya sat back in his chair, his chest swelling in pride and admiration. He smiled, a small smile, but still. He was _proud_ of this young boy. His student, this honorable young _man,_ he reflected. The young man had put his friend, and crush’s honor before his own wants. He started to chuckle, making Yahiko frown, confused.

“S-sensei?” His voice was high and nervous. Jiraiya pushed himself out from behind his desk and stood up. Crossing the room, he clapped a hand down on his student’s shoulder.

“You’ve made me proud, Yahiko. More than you could know.” The praise made him relax, and he returned the smile cheerily. “You considered Konan’s feelings and honor before you thought of what the consequences would do to your own. Truly, a mark of chivalry.” The young man’s eyes were shining with adoration.

“R-really? Do you mean that sensei?” He was positively glowing, grateful for the confirmation of his goodness and the praise his sensei gave. Jiraiya nodded.

“Yes, I mean every word. You’re mature beyond your years, son.” He removed his hand from Yahiko’s shoulder. “One day, when you feel the time is right, don’t hesitate to make your feelings known.” He chuckled as Yahiko’s cheeks went back to being red.

“How long have you known?” Jiraiya tapped his chin and thought back as far as he could remember.

“Oh, I’d say I knew how Konan felt… probably the day we met in that cave.” His student perked up and looked more surprised than anything else.

“That far back, huh?” He pursed his lips. “And… what about me? When did you know how I felt?” Crossing his arms, he looked up at his sensei. “Don’t try to spare my feelings. Just tell me.”

Jiraiya had to think deeper on that. Shutting his eyes, he selectively went through every memory he had of the two friends interacting near him. There were a ton, and most were just fragments. A bit of a joke’s punchline here, a muttered swear word and a mischievous giggle there. Until he came on a memory that hasn't surfaced in a long while. He snapped as the memory came to him.

“Do you remember the trip we went on,” he said after opening his eyes. “The one we took about a week after you three were made genin?” Yahiko’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

“The training exercise with Lady Tsunade and Orochimaru-sensei?” His eyes sparkled with recognition. “Of course! How could I forget? You made us all Chūnin at the end of it.” Jiraiya nodded slightly, though he recalled making nobody a Chūnin. That had been all his friends’ doing. He had simply watched, not wanting to seem like he was picking favorites.

“When they announced you had gotten a field promotion along with those two, the look you gave Konan. That’s when we knew.” He chuckled and nodded, certain of it now. Yahiko just nodded, too embarrassed to speak. With his own feelings now out in the open though, he seemed to get over it quickly.

“Thank you, sensei. Thanks for listening, and…” he trailed off. He took a breath and bowed. “Thank you, Lord Hokage. For making me feel like someone cared.” Jiraiya blinked in surprise and felt his own cheeks turning red. He laughed and waved his hand.

“Anytime, Yahiko! It’s nothing, really. I _wanted_ to listen.” He smiled, and Yahiko lifted his head to face him. “And about my title. There’s no need for that, Yahiko. When we’re alone, or in favorable company, just plain old ‘sensei’ is fine with me.” As an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and Nagato was found last night. He’s been taken to the hospital and is resting comfortably.” Yahiko nodded his understanding and waited expectantly for his release to go visit his friend.

“You’re dismissed. Have fun,” and with that, Yahiko bolted from his office taking the stairs three at a time. His assistant yelped in surprise when the door shot open, and gently shut it with the enthusiasm of a mouse. Jiraiya chuckled and went to sit down. There was a mountain of paperwork sitting there waiting for him to finally address.

Taking the first page, he slid on his reading glasses and dove into the document.


	4. Dark Words, Dark Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have an aversion to vomit, I sincerely apologize for this chapter.

**Border of the Land of Rain and the Land of Earth**

One month later

Konan was absolutely sick and _tired_ of the rain. The last six days had been nothing but downpour and cloudy skies, and her rain cloak was as drenched as she was. It was all she could do not to explode at the others, who seemed completely unaffected. Even Yahiko seemed to be unphased, though she didn’t like thinking about him anymore. After their incident, seeing him in her mind’s eye no longer warmed her. Instead she felt shame and embarrassment. So she didn’t think of Yahiko.

Which was really hard.

He spoke loudly, and often, with Minato. The two seemed to get along well enough, and that only served to make her heart yearn for him even more than it already did. She missed him dearly. Hearing him get on so well with someone else, practically a stranger, hurt.

To try and take her mind off of him, she would examine the scenery they were traveling through. It worked well enough in the Land of Fire, but as soon as they entered her old home country, it brought back bad memories. She stopped trying on the second day. That same day, the rain came. It started as a slow, light drizzle and grew into a torrential downpour so fierce that Minato ordered the two teams to stop and wait it out. That took a whole day, and the rain never ended.

It had kept raining, nonstop. The entire rest of the trip was spent huddled under their rain cloaks, not that they helped. She shivered from the chill, reflecting on how miserable she was. She decided that, unless it was for a mission, she would never return to this god-forsaken land. _Rain_ , she thought bitterly. _I hate the rain._

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. Minato was looking at her curiously. She blinked and shook her head.

“Sorry, what?” If he was annoyed, he did a good job of hiding it. He pulled his hand off of her and glanced over his shoulder at Yahiko.

“I said we’re ready. At your mark, Konan.” He smiled at her, and some of the cold that was forming in her gut at the prospect of parting melted away. She was ready. Why else would Jiraiya-sensei put her in charge? Taking a deep breath, she looked at her team. Two Chūnin underlings, a kindly boy from the Sarutobi clan that she knew vaguely, and a Hyuuga clan member that she didn’t know at all. They gave her determined nods, and she gripped the straps of her travel pack.

“Right,” she said confidently. “Team One, stay close. Move fast and randomly but _keep going West._ Understand?” The two boys confirmed, and she gave the order. “Scatter!” She ducked her head down and bolted, enhancing her calf muscles with as much chakra as she dared. She felt the tingle on her skin as her body passed through the barrier, and a sensation of unwelcomeness with it. When she looked back, Minato and Yahiko were gone. _Good luck,_ she wished them.

It wasn’t long until they had successfully gained their tail. Four of Stone’s ANBU troops were following her in trees to the sides of the path she ran down. The other two Leaf ninja would show up periodically, and one of them jumped down to join her now. He came closer and she knew he had something to report.

“Two of them tried to stop me. The first one jumped in my way, and the second tried to cut me down.” She cursed and nodded.

“Find Katsuki. Get him down here too. Team Two should be well in position by now, it’s time we reveal our purpose here.” He gave a quick affirmation and jumped off to her left to collect their teammate. She heard the clash of weapons connecting, and the two boys regrouped with her, panting slightly. As soon as they were a proper trio again, a fist emerged from the earth a few hundred feet ahead of them. She gave the order to stop, and they dug their heels into the ground to begin losing speed.

The biggest man Konan had ever seen clawed his way out. His only identifying feature was the white ANBU mask he wore. His armor was dusty and covered in dirt. If that wasn’t intimidating enough, the aura of his chakra was _menacing._ Just looking at him made her sweat. He bellowed out a challenge as the three of them came to a halt.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? Speak, before I cut you _all_ in half!” Konan eyed his hand as it closed around the hilt of his katana, a huge, curved blade twice the size of a normal one. The three Leaf ninja closed into a triangle with their backs pressed together as his comrades surrounded them. Konan spoke up before the man could issue another threat.

“I am Konan of the Leaf! We come with a warrant issuing the immediate return of Lady Tsunade of clan Senju! Her outstanding debts need to be addressed.” The squad captain, as Konan now realized he was, sneered under his mask.

“Why wasn’t the nature of your mission sent to the Tsuchikage beforehand?” She gritted her teeth and mustered up her best impatient expression.

“It _was._ Yondaime Hokage sent a missive two weeks ago. Our mission was approved.” The big man paused at that, and one of his team members disappeared from view. She tensed, and he began putting his weapon away.

“Wait, and we shall see.” And so they waited.

It didn’t take but half an hour for the ninja to return and confirm their story. The captain, clearly angered by this news, sent his team away with an angry flick of his hand.

“Welcome to the Land of Earth, Konan of the Leaf. Do try not to stir up any more trouble.” With the flick of his hand in an unfamiliar earth style seal, he sunk into the rock beneath his feet, the ground closing up over his head. Konan sighed in relief and clutched her trembling hand. The man had frightened her more than she liked to admit. His sudden appearance and overtly aggressive nature had made her worry. That, and being a foreign shinobi surrounded by four unhappy ANBU members. She shook her hand out. _No more shaking. You’re in charge_. The boys eyed her, and she nodded.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

**Hidden Stone Village**

A few seconds after Team One entered the Land of Earth

Yahiko ripped off his blindfold and blinked into the darkness. Next to him, Minato did the same. It was a good idea, letting them adjust their eyesight to the dimness of the dungeons. Now they were able to move on instead of wasting time becoming used to the shadows. Silently, Minato pointed to the left and made a pointing motion two times. _Left. Ten paces._ He made a fist. _Stop._

Yahiko nodded and did as he was told. He took each step carefully, his eyes scanning every inch of the corridor. When he reached ten paces, he flattened himself against the wall and held out his right hand with his middle, index finger, and thumb in the shape of a reversed capital L. _Clear._ Minato nodded and crept after him.

The code was predetermined, picked by Minato as their communication of choice. It was an old ANBU line that had since been retired, yet it was what the blond man chose all the same. He spent the entire week leading up to their departure drilling Yahiko to make crystal clear he knew it. It was second nature to him now. The blocky style could be seen in any light level except pure darkness. In which case, the average ninja wouldn’t have been deployed. But in terms of skill level, as in everything else, Minato was not average.

Yahiko hadn’t realized he was _that_ Minato Namikaze until the briefing in Jiraiya-sensei’s office three weeks ago. The Yellow Flash. The fastest man alive, and his fellow disciple of Jiraiya the Toad Sage. He was exceptionally intelligent, incredibly adaptable, and _personable_ to boot. You could really talk to him, and he would listen. Yahiko was sure he had talked the man’s ear off about his favorite anime and manga series, but he just listened. He never made Yahiko feel as if he were talking too much. _Patient as a saint,_ he had once declared.

That patience was on the back burner, however. Minato slid past him and stopped twenty paces down. He held up his right hand and pointed down an intersection hallway, moving his hand forward three times, then making a fist. _Down this hallway, fifteen paces. Stop._ Yahiko stepped past him and glided silent as a mouse as far as he was told. When he stopped in front of another intersection, the breath caught in his throat. There was a man glancing down towards him at the other end of the hallway. He squinted at the faint light that reflected off Yahiko’s headband. Minato waited for his report.

As the man advanced, he held out his left hand in a fist, his thumb extending down the hallway towards the target. _Not clear._ Minato reached behind him and grabbed a kunai as he watched Yahiko’s signs. His index and pinky fingers shot up, and his thumb formed a flat line at the base of his middle and ring finger. He spun the sign in a clockwise motion twice and made four motions towards the hallway he was facing. _Enemy spotted. Approaching, approximately forty paces._

As the man grew closer, Minato removed his headband and stuffed it in his pouch of ninja tools. Quickly, he closed the distance and ducked under Yahiko’s outstretched fist. The boy didn’t dare move, not when he was being directly looked at. Minato planted himself against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway to Yahiko’s right. When the footsteps grew loud, the man stopped and examined the hallway to either side.

“Anyone th—,” was all he had time to say. Minato leaped forward and grabbed him. Within an instant, the two were gone. Yahiko heard some struggling far off in the direction they came from, then the distinct sound of a kunai knife rending flesh. He knew the man was dead, but he was still on high alert. What was he _thinking_ , keeping his headband on? Minato reappeared to his left, smelling of copper. He didn’t say a word as Yahiko removed his headband and stuffed it away. The mission had to keep going.

Twisting and turning, one time going down a flight of stairs, they continued to navigate towards their goal. Minato had to kill two more people, each time taking them back to the initial room they had teleported into. Three deaths on his first S-rank. It made him sick, just thinking about the consequences. What would happen to their families? It was almost too horrible to imagine. _This is what being a ninja_ is, _Yahiko._ He grimaced, knowing the voice in his head was right. _Keep moving,_ it urged him. _The mission comes first._

It felt like hours before Minato stopped him and held up a single thumb. Their target was finally in reach. He then switched to his index finger and glanced over. _One enemy._ Yahiko nodded in affirmation. What was one more death? They had already killed three. Four wasn’t so bad, for an S-rank.

Minato started to separate himself from the cold stone wall and leave the shadows to kill the single guard when the door on the other side of the torture chamber clanged open. He darted back and held up a closed fist. Yahiko thought that was stupid. He didn’t need to be told to wait. Then he saw a huge man storm in.

“Fucking _idiots!”_ He raged, his impressive chakra flaring. “The Leaf had every right to be here. Our own government _approved it_! Those fools _knew_ and made _me_ look like a stupid asshole.” Next to him, Minato stiffened. He bit his lip and glanced at Yahiko. Something in his look shook Yahiko to his core. _He’s afraid,_ he realized. Did this man intimidate him?

Minato held up his index and middle fingers, pointing to himself. Then, he lifted his index finger again and pointed at Yahiko. _I’ll get the newcomer. You get the first._ His blood ran cold.

Him, _kill_ someone? He barely had time to think when Minato grabbed his shoulder tightly. He shook him, and his eyes said what he couldn’t. _I need you._ Yahiko nodded, and Minato released him. Putting one finger to his lips, he began moving out of Yahiko’s path. The two inside the room didn’t notice them enter.

Yahiko’s target turned slightly, and he realized it was a woman. A middle-aged woman, he guessed by the crow’s feet and smile lines. He steeled himself, and when the big man started talking again, he gave an internal war cry. Plunging forward, the woman turned fully towards him at the sudden noise.

“Who the hell are you?!” The woman said before Yahiko’s kunai plunged deep into her gut. The force sent it past the blade, stopped only by Yahiko’s balled fist. They slammed into the dark stone wall, and she moaned with pain. It hadn’t been a killing blow. Minato slit the huge man’s throat with practiced efficiency, a killer’s experience. He caught the corpse and gently lowered it to the ground.

Yahiko struggled to keep her still, convulsing under him as hot, sticky blood squirted from her wound with every heartbeat. Minato, once his body lay quietly on the ground, came over and laid a hand on the woman’s mouth. Her pained moans escaped as little more than whimpers. Yahiko grit his teeth and pulled the blade out. She slid down the wall and died before her butt hit the ground.

Yahiko was almost overcome with a desire to scream and vomit, though he only fulfilled the latter. Leaning against the wall, he emptied his stomach of the day’s meal. He retched as quietly as he could, only stopping once he had nothing else to spit up. Minato handed him a flask of water, which he accepted gratefully. He got a mouthful of water and spat, then repeated the process. Rinse, spit, repeat. Rinse, spit, repeat. Once he was sure he had gotten it all out, he drank until the flask was empty. When he looked up, he was alone in his corner.

Minato had moved to the table across the cell. He was reading a scroll with red fringes when he suddenly slammed it down. Yahiko jumped at the sudden noise. They both froze, listening. _No running footsteps,_ he thought. That was good. Slowly, he crept back over to Yahiko looking grim. He gave the scroll a tap and it vanished.

The blond man was about to say something when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the woman’s corpse in the middle of a death twitch. Thinking she was still alive, his kunai darted out and slashed a second, yawning mouth into her throat’s dead flesh. Weightless, then out in the blinding open. Yahiko fell to his knees and vomited out all the water he drank just a minute before.

His dry heaving was all that could be heard.

* * *

**Hidden Stone Village**

Half an hour after entering the village

Her dry heaving was all that could be heard. The small alley was lined with doors to restaurant kitchens and bars, most of them shut, so they didn’t hear her. But Konan did, and she felt awful.

Tsunade Senju was in rough shape as she approached. The tall woman patting her back looked up when she heard them. She tapped Tsunade, saying “Leaf ninja.” The Sannin glanced up from her ordeal and murmured weakly.

“Who’s there?” Konan stopped so her master could get a better look at her face. She smiled when the recognition started to spread. It was good to see her again, she had to admit.

“Konan! You… what are you doing here?” Before Konan could answer, she threw her head to the side and vomited again. It took a moment for her to stop. Konan shuddered, not envying her master one bit.

“Is there somewhere we could talk? Somewhere private?” The tall, slender woman holding Tsunade in place narrowed her eyes.

“Is this alley not private enough? Look around you. Nobody else is here besides us Leaf ninja.” Konan hadn’t guessed that this woman was a fellow shinobi. She didn’t look the part, and her challenge didn’t last. Tsunade straightened herself and took a deep, cleansing breath.

“Inside my restaurant,” she said, motioning to the nearest door. Nodding, Konan and her team followed the two women inside. The cooks and waiters scrambled when she passed them, and Konan could guess why. Tsunade Senju had a hell of an attitude when someone pissed her off. It was _not_ something you wanted to do more than once.

She posted the two Chūnin as guard outside the office and entered with her master. They sat at a big desk, and Tsunade grinned boastfully.

“Like it?” She sounded genuinely pleased with herself, and she tapped it. “Some kind of wood called mahogany.” Konan touched it appreciatively.

“It’s lovely, my lady. But how did you come across this business venture?” Tsunade chuckled and moved her hand to resemble rolling a set of dice.

“The game never gets old!” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “I was about to lose it all, Konan. A single bad throw away from another huge debt. Then, the owner says, ‘tell ya what! I’ll bet my whole business on this next throw.’ And I _won._ I freaking won!” She burst out laughing, and Kona gave a polite chuckle to the tale. The laughter settled down, and Tsunade glanced at her student.

“So. What brings you here?” Konan held up the scroll with the warrant on it.

“We were told to—,” she began. Tsunade held her hand up. Konan fell silent.

“I know why _Stone_ thinks you’re here. Some warrant for my immediate retrieval, blah blah blah.” She mimed a talking mouth with her hand. “Got a notice from the Hokage. Why are you _actually_ here?” She eyed her apprentice with interest. Konan took a deep breath and told her all she knew. The battle Orochimaru-sensei had with ROOT, his failed mission to capture Danzo, Ichiraku’s torched ramen shop. It flowed like a river out of her mouth. When she was done, Tsunade whistled.

“That’s quite the tale. So, when do we leave?” Konan blinked at the sudden change of subject.

“Um… well, about that, my lady. Minato Namikaze has a mission here as well. When we have confirmation of success or failure, we will report back to Jiraiya-sensei immediately.” Tsunade had been drinking sake and frowned.

“Why Jiraiya? Is Hiruzen-sensei unavailable?” She set her sake down and sat forward. _She hasn’t heard,_ Konan realized with wide eyes. A devious smile grew on her lips. Tsunade frowned deeper. “What, Konan? I don’t like the mischief in your eye.”

“Jiraiya-sensei _is_ the Hokage, my lady.” Tsunade’s face went dark as she lowered her head. Her shoulders began to shake, and Konan believed she was going to scream in rage. But then, the sound of muffled laughter escaped her lips. Konan bit her lip anxiously, and noticed her shoulders were shaking from _laughing_ , not anger. She was as confused as ever when Tsunade began laughing out loud at some joke Konan wasn’t privy to. Tsunade slammed her hand down on the desk, and Konan jumped at the sudden impact.

“I win,” she said with a smirk. Konan frowned.

“You… _win_ , my lady? Win what?” She didn’t know what her master was talking about, and she didn’t like not knowing. Tsunade shook her head and giggled to herself, reaching for more sake. She took a long drink, then set the bottle down again.

“The bet I had with Jiraiya. Our wager was that he would accept the position of Hokage, one day, because he loved the village too much not to.” A wistful smile appeared on her face. “There’s no way he would refuse, so I bided my time, and now I’ve won.” She nodded simply, like that was all she needed to say. Konan eyed her servant, who only shrugged helplessly. She cleared her throat.

“I see. What’s your prize, my lady?” She hadn’t been expecting a real answer, yet Tsunade tapped her chin in thought anyway.

“Let’s see…” she trailed off, now seriously deep in thought. A sip of sake, and she frowned solemnly. “I can’t say I remember. We made the bet so long ago. Back when we were just genin playing at being shinobi.” She shrugged. “But I’ll be damned if it won’t bug me for—“

A thud against the wall outside, then a surprised shout immediately told Konan that trouble was outside the office. More shouting, and the shuffle of a body being dragged. _A dead body, or just unconscious?_ She didn’t look forward to finding out. As she rose out of her seat she quickly darted to the office door.

“My lady, please stay inside. No matter what happens.” Tsunade just nodded. Konan glanced at the translucent window in the door and saw the frame of a man with long, shaggy blond hair pass by. Her guard lowered, and she slid the door open a few centimeters. Minato’s voice came through, apologizing to one of the boys outside. Her readiness dropped completely, and she took a look into the hallway.

Minato was back, standing over the limp body of the Sarutobi boy, held firmly by the Hyuuga. The Jōnin had some blood on his sleeves, and she squinted when he turned to look at her. No, quite a _lot_ of blood. She frowned, her eyes widening. Her mouth began forming a name, but before she could speak he held up a hand.

“Yahiko is… fine.” Though the conflicted look on his face concerned her, she nodded.

“Right, but… what happened here?” Minato waved his hand.

“I surprised him. He almost stabbed me, so I just knocked him out to avoid any trouble.” That hardly seemed like avoiding trouble to her, but she just looked helplessly at Tsunade.

“My lady, our ride has arrived.” Tsunade stood, stumbled a bit, and steadied herself. “Please grab onto Minato. Any bit of him, body part or clothing. It will all get back to the Leaf.” The kindly man smiled up at her. She stepped out into the hallway and placed a hand on his shoulder. The smile was forced, she noticed. For her benefit? Or maybe for Lady Tsunade, who had never travelled this way before?

When Tsunade approached, he held out his right hand. It was stained a deep red, but she clasped it all the same. Her servant grabbed her other hand, looking less than thrilled. She said something encouraging to the girl, but it got lost in the momentary blur that transported them a thousand kilometers away. The Hidden Leaf appeared all around them. Lady Tsunade let go of Minato’s hand and stumbled over to the nearest trash can. All the sake she had been drinking in her office came back up in a loud, grotesque fit of vomiting.

Konan released Minato’s shoulder and quickly covered her mouth. She had never teleported either, and the weightlessness had turned her stomach inside-out and upside down. She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped down into a squat. Visibly shaking, she fought to breathe, to contain the contents of her stomach. To her great dismay, she lost. All the stress and fear and worry that had permeated her for the last month finally came to bear. The horrible sounds Lady Tsunade made nearby was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and she couldn’t help what came after.

Despite her efforts, she gagged. A wave of vomit erupted from her mouth and nostrils into her gloved hand. She pulled it away, disgusted, and another wave followed shortly after. Hot and foul, it burned as it came up. Shuddering, she tried to breathe. The breaths were interrupted by a third wave, so powerful and painful that she fell forward from her squatted position onto her knees. Her whole body was quivering, and people had stopped to stare at the two women losing their lunches.

Her throat and nose burned. Traces of her bile dropped from her nose and ran down her chin. She spat, but it didn’t help. The taste was deep. Minato laid a hand gently on her shoulder, and she turned her head to meet his gaze. He gave her a sympathetic smile, but she saw the pity hidden behind the sparkle in his eye. Something raged in her mind, and she hated him for that look. Konan wasn’t a weak little girl, not anymore. She was a Jōnin, same as him. A ninja of the Leaf. And she would _not_ be pitied.

Gritting her teeth, she shoved his hand off her shoulder with a rough jerk of her arm. With only a little bit of trouble, she pushed herself to her feet. Minato stood as well and offered her a hand to steady herself. She shoved that away, too, and glared at him. If the blatant disrespect bothered the blond man, he didn’t show it. They stared at each other for what felt like an hour, Konan’s rage flaring with each passing second. When he spoke, it surprised her.

“Konan,” he said, voice cold as steel. “Put the knife away.” Her eyes widened. When she looked down at her hands, she found that she was indeed holding a kunai knife. She saw that Minato had one too, and all the strength went out of her. The hand holding the kunai went lax, and she dropped it. The knife hit the ground with the familiar clang of steel on pavement, a sound she had thought she forgot a long time ago. Minato kicked it away from her. It spun off, not stopping until it hit the curb.

She looked at him and grimaced. Drawing a knife on a comrade was punishable by death, she knew. Minato had every right to kill her if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He just put his own kunai away and smiled again. There was never a smile she hated so much, she decided. It had none of the warmth or friendliness that Yahiko’s did. If it were genuine, she would be more than surprised.

“There, now. See? We’re all friends here.” He turned to face her teammates of Team One. “You two alright?” When they nodded, he turned his attention to Konan’s master. “And you, Lady Tsunade?” She gave him a nod and started walking towards the group.

“Just peachy.” She reached them and placed a hand on Konan’s shoulder. “Go home, hon. We’ll tell Jiraiya where you’ve gone.” She sounded tense. Her grip was tight, and the longer she held on the tighter it became. Kona just nodded, shrinking away from Minato’s eyes and fake smile. She began walking towards home. The small crowd that had gathered to watch parted for her. Some whispered, others stared.

And she ignored them all.

* * *

**Lord Hokage’s Office**

Report of mission success

“After that’s when she left,” Tsunade finished, staring across the desk at her oldest friend. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Are you sure she meant to hurt him?” He lowered his hand and looked at her. She took a moment to recall the incident in its entirety.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “But, of all the years I’ve known Konan, I’ve never seen her so angry. I don’t believe she even knew what she was doing. Seeing the knife shocked her.” She sat back in her chair and blew out a breath. Jiraiya nodded and moved on.

“Well, as long as neither one of them is hurt, I suppose they can settle it privately. Now, this scroll contains the latest intel we’ve gathered on the Hidden Stone.” He held up the scroll in question, a thin thing with red fringes at the top and bottom. “It came at the price of five, possibly even six lives. Five Stone ninja and maybe our planted spy. We weren't able to ascertain their status.” The end where it unfolded was stained a deeper red, the copper color of dried blood. She tilted her head to the left as she examined it.

“What’s in it?” Curiosity was as much in her own voice as it was in Jiraiya’s. Neither of them had seen the contents inside of it yet. Only Minato Namikaze had, and it was enough to dampen his usual good cheer. _Enough to almost come to blows with Konan earlier_. Jiraiya shrugged.

“Why don’t we find out?” He set the scroll on his desk and pushed it open. Tsunade leaned forward and whined.

“It’s upside down,” she complained. He nodded with a mock-sympathetic smile and looked up.

“I’ll read it and tell you what it says.” She huffed but agreed. He turned his attention back to the scroll and put his finger on the line of text to begin reading. She smiled and chuckled at the action, but he paid her no mind. _You still have that habit after all this time, Jiraiya?_

Quietly, Tsunade waited for Jiraiya to read. As his index finger went down line after line, his face fell. When he was finished, he looked up with his jaw clenched and a grim expression.

“Well,” he began eloquently. “It seems someone is after the tailed beasts.” Setting the scroll down, Jiraiya reached into his desk and pulled out two whiskey glasses. He placed them next to the scroll and pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey, gingerly filling both glasses up a quarter of the way. Tsunade didn’t wait for permission and grabbed the first glass, downing it in a single gulp. She slammed it down onto the desk, and Jiraiya poured again.

It took them both a few more drinks to come to terms with the information. A tailed beast was no easy target, and if someone was going after them, it was surely bad news. Tsunade’s head was swimming from the whiskey and the terrifying revelation both. Who could possibly be that crazy? Jiraiya swirled his third glass of the harsh brown liquor solemnly. He didn’t speak for a long, long time. The silence was almost too much to bear. Finally, Tsunade blew out an exasperated breath.

“What will we do?” She looked up at Jiraiya, her good friend and now her Hokage. He was supposed to have all the answers, right? If anybody could answer that question, it had to be him. It was his job as the leader of the Hidden Leaf to plan for this kind of thing. Surely, she hoped, he would know. After a few moments, he down what was left in his glass and set it down calmly.

“We contact the leaders of villages that have jinchūriki. Then, we fortify our own.” Tsunade opened her mouth to protest for Kushina’s sake but faltered under Jiraiya’s dark gaze. “I know. It isn’t as simple as telling her to stay put in a safehouse. But we have to try.” She shook her head, more mystified than confused.

“What…. I mean, how… how?! Just how in the world are we going to deal with this?” She felt so helpless, so _powerless_ , the same way she felt when Nawaki and Dan died. And she hated feeling that way. Here she was now, believing she was strong enough to handle anything. And she could. She was one of the three Legendary Sannin of the Leaf. But _this?_ It was a whole other level of power. A Jinchuriki of a tailed beast was the kind of ninja you only fought if you had a death wish. _And someone is hunting them down._

Jiraiya looked regal to her, so calm that it made her feel shameful. She was quaking in her boots like a scared little girl. Yet his confidence was soothing her. He looked her in the eye and her body relaxed.

“We will deal with the little things. Like keeping Kushina safe. We’ll focus on what we can _control._ ” His voice was steady, cadence normal like he was talking about the weather. She found herself calming with every passing moment. Not just calming down but _believing_ him too. He was right. Kushina would be safer here than anywhere else they could put her. She motioned for him to pour her another glass. When he poured the last bit of whiskey into her cup, she sipped at it, letting the liquid linger a moment before swallowing.

“You really have become a leader,” she commented before taking another sip. Jiraiya chuckled politely and nodded.

“It’s been a hard month, in truth. I don’t know how ive held on this long, but the work is rewarding.” He smiled softly. “The people have accepted me well enough. The clan leaders are a little less accepting, but I’ll have them all in no time.” He sounded tired, she realized. Weary of the struggle. Hesitantly, she reached across the desk and grabbed his huge hand. He didn’t pull away at the sudden touch.

“You’re doing a good job, Jiraiya.” She looked him in the eye, now trying to pour her own confidence into him. She found herself believing the words as she spoke them, and his eyes widened.

“Tsunade…” he trailed off, not sure exactly what to say. His grip on her hand tightened, and he smiled. “Thank you, I mean that. It means a lot that you’re here again. I’ve missed you.” His cheeks had gone red, either from the liquor or his confession. Tsunade wasn’t sure, though her own face was heating up in response. It was crazy, but her chest was constricting the same way it had when Dan revealed his feelings. She blew out a breath.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting.” She smirked, emboldened by her drunkenness. Jiraiya shrugged, returning her smile.

“Perhaps I am. What would you say to that, my lady?” Tsunade hooted and slammed the desk with her palm.

“I’m your lady now, am I? Hmm. That doesn’t sound too shabby. Lady to the Hokage.” Her smirk had turned into a full-blown smile, and the feeling in her chest was replaced by another. So pure and so strong that she regretted not coming home earlier.

“We’ll see, Jiraiya. I like this… candidness. Speaking freely suits you, I think.” Letting go of his hand, she stood up and leaned across his desk. “For now though, I’ll leave you with this.” Grabbing both of his cheeks in her hands, Tsunade kissed Jiraiya’s forehead. He looked pleased when she let go, and she ruffled his hair lightly.

“Don’t make me regret that.” She whispered, winking at him and bowing slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time I went home.” Hoping she didn’t just make another heart-breaking mistake, Tsunade scampered from the office and turned down the spiral staircase that ringed the inside of the building’s upper level.

Memories of her two most beloved boys in the world haunted her as she fled.

* * *

**Surrounding forest of the Hidden Leaf Village**

Near dusk

Light from the setting sun bathed Nagato as he travelled. The last three weeks of his recovery were exhausting, not because of the recovery itself, but because of the nightmares that plagued his sleep. His first week in hospital had gone smoothly enough. The burns healed within a few days, and his left ear could hear at the end of the sixth day. On the night of the seventh, he went to sleep feeling much better, only to dream himself in a dark, sealed cave. It was damp and smelled like embalming fluids. Nagato realized it was a tomb about the same time he realized that he actually _felt_ and _smelled_.

The first few dreams he only saw the tomb, with one empty grave and another close by. The second lay untouched. Then, a few nights later a man was in the tomb with him. He said little, commanding Nagato to come find him. It took a few more nights of unanswered commands for the man to start shouting, _demanding_ Nagato to come. After that, he asked the nurses for something to make his sleep dreamless, and they gave him some heavy sleep medication. That had worked well enough.

But the man wouldn’t be outdone so easily. The three nights of dreamless sleep were interrupted in the fourth night, and the commanding and screaming started up again. Only now the man’s eyes glowed a dim red in the tomb’s shadowy darkness. Something was pulling him to the strange man, and no amount of medication would quell him. So tonight, in place of Nagato, a shadow clone would sleep in his bed while he went out to discover who or what kept summoning him.

The pulling sensation in his gut got stronger the further northeast he walked. He knew that he was close, just out of the man in the tomb’s reach. He could run if he wanted. Go back and tell Jiraiya-sensei, find some other way to stop the nightmares. But a deep sense of foreboding stopped him from doing that: the man wanted him, and the man would _get_ him. It would be better if he came alone.

His gut felt like it would be torn out of his body when he finally stopped in front of a scenic cliff face. Frowning, Nagato touched the stone. His eyes could see through any ninjutsu, but this was some advanced work. The cliff, he determined, was mostly natural. A chakra-carved cave resided inside the stone roughly fifty meters inside. Whatever entranced used to be there was now sealed, however. Despite that, he could still see the thin line in the rocks that were once its opening.

Flashing a few quick hand seals, he finished with an earth style seal. The rock face began to shudder, first dropping a few large stones, then the entire fake outer shell of rocks crumbling under the will of Nagato’s jutsu. Dust fell with rocks and covered the area, but he saw the way was clear. Satisfied, he kicked a few of the bigger rocks aside. They gave way as easily as the wall had. As soon as he stepped inside, the pulling stopped. Staring down a long, narrow tunnel dug into the earth, he knew that this was where he needed to be.

Torches lined the wall of the tunnel, separated perfectly by five feet segments. He grabbed one from its sconce and studied it. Coated with oil, it looked almost brand new. He frowned. _This place looks almost ancient,_ he thought. _What kind of torch lasts this long?_ The wood was still strong, not rotted at all. He would’ve guessed that it had been made recently if the rest of the tomb didn’t feel so damn _old._ Everything but the torches gave off vibes of days so long gone that Nagato was sure this place was forgotten.

He struck the torch on a nearby stone and it lit up immediately. The flame was so intensely bright when it was first lit that he needed to look away while it settled. When his eyes adjusted, he realized that _every_ torch was now aflame. The entire tunnel was brightly lit like a firework display during the holidays. Confusion gripped Nagato, but he didn’t have time to sit and think. Whatever needed to see him was waiting. If he had to take a guess, it didn’t like being kept waiting.

Returning the torch to its sconce, Nagato started walking down the sloped floor of the tunnel. Rough stone stairs that were badly eroded from years of leaking water guided him down towards an opening. About a quarter of the way down, the stairs gave way to dirt and gravelly stones. On the sides of the dirt path were small patches of wildflowers and overgrown weeds. They almost looked placed, but that wasn't possible. A location this secretive couldn’t have been _decorated_. It made no sense.

But the very existence of this place defied logic. Would anybody even believe him? If he said he found an abandoned tomb with magic torches and a walkway decorated with flowers, wouldn’t he just sound crazy? Nuts Nagato, they would call him. His doubts only grew. One look at this place that was older than memory shook him. It did not need his approval to exist. That it was still standing after being neglected for so long proved its arrogance, like it was still around out of spite.

Minutes passed, and Nagato found himself at the bottom of the sloped tunnel, maybe forty or fifty feet underground. The opening lay a few feet away across a small pool of stagnant water. Flies buzzed, dragonflies hovered above the surface, and he even spotted a frog sitting at the bottom. A few tiny fish swam around it, and its tongue shot out to catch one. Despite its thrashing, the frog was stronger, and the fish was eaten all the same. Nagato couldn’t help but feel very similar to the small, eaten fish. Like he was prey for something much older and stronger and wiser than him.

He steeled himself and tested the water with his foot. Layering the sole of his boot with chakra, he took a step forward. His training held fast, and he crossed over the water into the room beyond. More torches ringed the wall, as fresh as their brethren in the tunnel. Once again, they lit up as he approached. His eyes narrowed as the darkness vanished and shone light on a peculiar wooden door on the other side of the chamber.

It was large, taller than him and wide as the massive trees that shielded the village. On it was an enlarged carving of the iconic Uchiha clan’s symbol. Nagato’s frown deepened. Just who in the world was buried here? The paper fan was carved deep into the wood. The top and bottom had been colored once, the red and white respective shades long since faded. _Faded,_ Nagato thought. _But not gone._ It was as stubborn as the old walls surrounding it.

When he reached the door, his eyes spotted the faint trickle of chakra seeping from the wood. The tiny cracks throughout the door were leaking, slowly in some places and akin to a raging fire in the larger cracks. But the wood still looked polished, like it was installed just the day before. Only the faded paint appeared out of place. Still, Nagato couldn’t deny that this door shared the same ancient power of the tomb.

His hand touched the door for just a moment, but that was all it took. A purple barrier of complex and aged seals appeared where his hand lay. The sudden presence of chakra compelled something in the door, and it answered his touch. The barrier dissolved, letting the doors swing open silently. The Uchiha fan split straight down the center, pulling itself inward. The two doors that formed the seal to the inner sanctum fell into shadows and stopped at a ninety-degree angle. Not a single sound was made throughout this process, except Nagato’s breathing. He couldn’t help but feel insanely loud.

Peering into the darkness, he spotted a sitting figure. A man, he suspected. The very same man that spent three weeks calling him. He took a step forward. The sitting man flicked his hand, sending a blast of cold air towards Nagato. He shielded himself, but he wasn’t the target. Torches behind him were blown out, throwing Nagato back into the pitch-black darkness of the cave. His heart leapt into his throat at the power of the single gesture. Dread followed after his eyes adjusted, and he saw the dim red glow of the man’s eyes.

“Haven’t you made me wait enough?” The seated man asked. His voice was deep, and unfamiliar. His accent was similar to someone from the Leaf, but Nagato didn’t know why an Uchiha wouldn’t be buried in the village. He looked perfectly alive though; Nagato again questioned why he was sitting in this tomb at all. As Nagato studied the man, he chuckled. Raising two fingers, he motioned for Nagato to come to him. Nagato’s legs began moving against his will.

“Are you just going to stand there? Come _here_ , boy.” The man smirked, amused as Nagato walked forward. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body. He couldn’t even scream as he was forced to move towards the two graves. His captor sat between them, nonplussed. Nagato recognized them as the same ones from his nightmares. He walked until the man was right in front of him. The two fingers controlling him stopped, and so did he. The man let them fall, and Nagato felt control return to him.

“Now then,” he said with a smile, standing up. He was taller than Nagato, with those terrible red eyes and the dark hair of the Uchiha’s. His face was familiar now that he was so close. You could plant it on any Uchiha and there wouldn’t be much of a change. Nagato’s eyes saw it all but didn’t understand.

“Who are you?” He asked in a low whisper. The man chuckled and tilted his head to the side.

“Who do _you_ think I am?” Nagato’s mind raced. This was clearly a tomb. He simply couldn’t deny that fact. They stood in between two graves, one completely empty. The man was an Uchiha, quite clearly by his eyes and face, but also from the clan’s symbol on the door. But how did it all fit together? The pieces were there, but for all he was worth, Nagato just couldn’t finish the puzzle. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t guess who this man was.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You have the Sharingan. You have to be an Uchiha.” That seemed to amuse the man. He laughed, a dark laughter that made Nagato shiver. When he moved, Nagato’s eyes followed. He walked to the grave that lay undisturbed, laying a hand on it with reverence.

“I was meant to share this tomb... With my brother.” He spoke so softly that Nagato had to strain to hear him. “And I did,” he admitted. “For… oh, sixty, maybe seventy years?” He stared at the grave in front of him, seeming to forget Nagato was there.

“Then how… _How_ are you alive?” Nagato asked, breathless. This was insane. He refused to believe that the man standing in front of him had once been dead. But he spoke with such conviction that Nagato couldn’t help believing. Either he told the truth, or he had convinced himself that he was. Truthful or crazy, Nagato couldn’t decide what was worse.

The man’s eyes shot to Nagato’s, and he willed Nagato forward with a wiggle of his finger. Against his will, Nagato’s torso leaned forward. When he was an inch from the man’s face, he stopped.

“An Uchiha trick!” He said with a straight face. Then, breaking into a smile, started to cackle like an insane hyena. _He's crazy_ , Nagato decided. _Definitely crazy._ The laughter died in the man’s mouth and he grabbed a handful of Nagato’s hair, pulling his head back. Nagato was forced to look down to keep the man in sight. He leaned right up to Nagato’s ear.

“You think I’ve lost it, don’t you?” His eyes began to spin. Three connected black swirls, detached from his pupil, held red spheres in their center. Three black lines connected the swirls to the outer part of the Sharingan. Those spun too, like fan blades that weren’t attached yet still moved when the base was turned on. Nagato had never seen such Sharingan, but common knowledge told him they weren’t normal. Every shinobi in the Leaf knew that the standard Sharingan had between one comma-shaped tomoe in its most basic form to three when it was fully matured. This was something that blew everything he thought he knew about the Uchiha’s dōjutsu out of the water. His voice failed him. The man began to retreat, letting Nagato regain control once more.

“I thought a shinobi in possession of a Rinnegan would be more capable.” He sneered while backing off. Suddenly, Nagato got the feeling that he was about to engage an enemy. His right foot slid backward, stopping when it was perpendicular to his left. His hands came up into a defensive position, but he doubted he could weave hand seals from their shaking. The man barked out laughter.

“Oh, _please_. If I wanted to fight you, I wouldn’t have allowed you inside.” Nagato didn’t move. He only watched the man move deeper into the shadows. He grunted, moving backward until he was completely submerged in the inky blackness. Only his spinning red eyes remained. “Fine. We fight.” He shut them and vanished.

Nagato listened to the silence, trying to hear even the faintest sound. A scuff of skin on stone to his right. Faint laughter from his left. The drip of water behind him, coming from the entrance. He was about to turn when faint movement caught his eye. The man emerged from the dark, rushing Nagato, his eyes flashing open. Nagato threw a punch, and the man ducked underneath it, running past him back into the shadows. More laughter, the sounds of his footfalls echoing in the silence as he ran circles around the chamber.

A small stone came sailing from the gloom. Nagato easily brushed it aside, despite the speed and strength of the throw. Once it was in the dim light, Nagato saw everything. Sometimes the man came from the right, sometimes to the left or even from the front. But never from behind. He always gave Nagato the opportunity to dodge or respond. He launched a dozen fireballs, countered every time by Nagato’s water style. He tossed stone after stone, pelting Nagato until he was bleeding in some places and beaten red in others. Once, he even engaged Nagato in an extended taijutsu fight. Throughout the entire ordeal though, he never allowed Nagato to hit him. Not once.

“You have to earn that right!” He cried, launching another stone at Nagato’s head. “You are _not_ Hashirama!” Nagato froze, his head screaming that something was not right. What did the first Hokage have to do with this? He once again reflected that none of this made any sense. The stone collided with his forehead right in the center, sending him flying onto his back. He briefly blacked out, coming to just as the man stooped over him.

“Didn’t kill you, did I?” He asked, sounding more bored than concerned. Nagato grunted, sitting up. He smiled. “Good!” Nagato barely had time to register the kick aimed for his head before his body started moving in reaction to it. He saw it all in slow-motion. The foot traced a path through the air it cut as it bore towards his face. _This isn’t good_ , he thought. He had a rough idea of the man’s taijutsu prowess, strength, and speed. He knew that the kick would kill him if it connected. _If,_ he thought. His hands connected in an instant, weaving through a dozen signs quicker than he ever knew he could. This jutsu was his only hope. His mouth opened, and he heard his own voice come to life in the muteness.

“Almighty Push!” He shouted. His hands were too far away from his point of concentration, so the blast came from his eyes. In an instant, the man went from a few inches away from killing Nagato to the other side of the chamber. The force of the jutsu was so intense that the eastern wall where the man crashed into was cracking. Dust, stones, and the man himself fell to the ground. Nagato breathed heavily, rising to his feet, and pushing his hair out of his eyes. _I can do that one, maybe two more times,_ he thought grimly. _After that, I’m out of chakra._

He dropped back into a defensive position, but his opponent didn’t move. He would take no chances though, so he stayed that way. The man didn’t move for a long time. So long that Nagato was sure he’d sent the mysterious Uchiha back to his grave. Until he began to cough, pushing some of the larger rocks away and climbing to his feet. His Sharingan was deactivated now, and he had a sour look on his face.

“Well,” he said to himself. “ _That_ was unexpected.” Dusting himself off, he glanced at Nagato. “Not bad!” Nagato just stared, not daring to lower his guard. The man waved him off, and he reluctantly dropped his fists.

“Any particular reason you tried to kill me just now?” He asked hotly. The man shrugged, choosing to turn and stroll back to his seat between the graves rather than look at him. Sitting, he waved Nagato over. The boy obeyed, this time of his own free will.

“Had to be sure you were worthy.” He smirked up at Nagato as he got closer. “Nice jutsu. Still didn’t hit me.” Nagato crossed his arms, frowning.

“I think it should still count.” The man laughed, slapping his knee. Nagato didn’t find it that funny but allowed the laugh. It was better than the alternative, he decided. “So, now that we’re friends, who are you?” He was still reeling from the mystery man’s ridiculous changes in mood as he got serious once again.

“You really wanna know?” He asked, voice dry as the desert. Nagato nodded eagerly. He thought he had earned that right, at the very least.

“I answered your summons. I should know who summoned me.” The man nodded and muttered.

“Fair enough. Alright,” he said while standing up. Nagato felt the chill in the air get colder as they made eye contact. The mysterious Sharingan activated again, this time perfectly still.

“My name is Madara Uchiha.”


	5. Provocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the game of intrigue and politics, Danzo makes a risky play.

**Hidden Stone Village**

One month after the operation in the Land of Earth

Describing the Hidden Stone’s reaction to the deaths of five ANBU ninja in a dungeon nobody was supposed to know about as panicked would be an understatement. After the operation, there was an information blackout from the village and the Land of Earth. Nobody could get word in or out. The only message that entered was an urgent missive from the fourth Hokage, Jiraiya the Toad Sage.

In it, the missive detailed an operation to recover the final report of a spy planted among the citizenry of the Hidden Stone Village. The Tsuchikage was, understandably, furious at the deaths of five of his ninjas. It also miraculously coincided with the disappearance of Tsunade Senju, who happened to be under ANBU surveillance. But the revelation that tailed beasts were being targeted by an unknown assailant quickly burnt that anger away, replacing it with a somber anxiety. The Tsuchikage immediately recalled its jinchūriki, thanking the Hokage for the information rather than inciting a diplomatic incident for the hostile mission. What the Leaf didn’t know however, was that the Hidden Stone had had _two_ jinchūriki, not one.

A man known as Han, the jinchūriki of the five-tails, had been unknowingly killed by the Leaf ninja during their operation. He towered over normal men and scared most so badly that he needed special placement in the ANBU as a constant reminder that his life could be ended at any moment. But he _thrived_ in the black ops section, so the Tsuchikage had no choice but to allow him to climb the ranks. The damnable thing was that he carried his companions to victory each time he led a mission, eventually becoming an officer. His success championed a new era of ANBU supremacy in the Stone’s political hierarchy. He had grown from the organization, and they from him. It was a terrible loss to bear. At least, for his comrades.

The Tsuchikage would never admit this publicly, but the Leaf did him a favor. In their haste to recover their spy’s stolen knowledge, they had unwittingly removed a threat to his position. It pained him to say, but Han was a very cunning man. He knew people. He knew what they were thinking, feeling, and seeing. It was an uncanny ability to almost reach inside of them and assess their deepest desires, even if he’d only known them a short time. The way he seemed to care about the slightest thing made him many well-connected friends. Many friends that shared his view of the world. Many connections that supported his desire for a return to the old way. The way of blood.

His powerful connections allowed him to challenge the village elder’s authority with little repercussions. It was all the Tsuchikage could do to keep the peace between the two groups. Two ideologies that were inherently different; the desire to negotiate alliances and live peacefully with others or dominate their neighbors into submission. Weakness, as Han saw it, and needless brutality, as the elders named it. A constant battle of words, curses, and a time or two an actual brawl. The entire village was on edge as the opposing views pushed further and harder with each passing day.

And with the death of Han, the crowd pushing for a return to the days of rampant bloodshed faded into obscurity. The Tsuchikage had no doubts that he would have been killed in pursuit of this goal. He also did not doubt that Han would claim his seat after his death. It made him shudder, thinking of that sadistic, blood-thirsty man ruling an entire army of deadly shinobi. Thankfully, though, Han had caught the spy that was sending reports back to the Leaf. It was this act that ultimately brought upon his downfall. The spy’s death was regrettable, though. She was just a pawn in the game between hidden villages. While he had sympathy for the woman whose name he did not know, she was an enemy agent. Her presence was an insult, the mission to retrieve her intel an act of war. He could not simply let it go.

But how could he extract revenge? This was the Hidden Leaf. Discarding their powerful line of Hokage, there was no lack of clout. Even here, names like Minato Namikaze, Fugaku Uchiha, and Shikaku Nara were whispered in reverence. His own ninja were well-known in the Land of Earth, but nobody spoke of them past his borders. Local heroes, at the most. Not a match for these legendary men.

But still, he needed to respond in kind. One of his village’s most vital weapons was killed. His land invaded under false pretenses. His honored guest stolen right out from under him. If he didn’t answer these actions, his people would find somebody that would. Usually, he would try to find a diplomatic solution, consulting the village elders on a course of action. This time, they called for blood loudest of all. The oldest of the Council of Elders, a man named Sato, lost his eldest daughter in the attack. In exchange for her life, he wanted revenge.

“Madness,” he grumbled. “Complete and total madness.” He knew that the Leaf village always came out on top. Sure, he could score a victory or two in the early days of a war. But then the shinobi sent against him would be higher skilled and more varied in ability. His people would be overwhelmed, routed, and defeated before the year’s end. Still, he had to do _something._ He was contemplating a half-dozen responses when a knock on his office door roused him.

“Come in,” he said. He was expecting his assistant, an intelligent, young man that had a promising future, but was instead greeted by a young, attractive female aide. She had long, flowing dark hair, a standard office worker’s outfit, and a strange black cloth covering her eyes. Despite this, she seemed to have no problem navigating inside the office and seemingly making eye contact. Shutting the door, she produced a folded letter sealed in gray wax.

“The Council of Elders humbly requests your presence tonight, Lord Tsuchikage.” Holding his hand out, he dreaded the contents of the message. She approached, setting the missive firmly in his hand. He thanked her, parting the wax, and opening the letter. It confirmed what she told him. The Council of Elders wanted to meet after dusk to discuss his plan of action against the Hidden Leaf. Refusing to let his despair show, he nodded to the young woman.

“Tell the Council I gladly accept their invitation. It would be my pleasure,” he said amicably. She bowed her head, a small, almost indistinguishable smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“They will be… most pleased, my Lord.” She slipped out of the office without another word. A sense of dread formed in his gut, making the Tsuchikage want to call her back, but there wasn’t really a point. The meeting was set. Whatever misgivings he had about the strange incident just before she left, he doubted the aide would be present. Low level paper-pushers like her didn’t often attend these powerful meetings. Knowing this, he pushed down the dread and checked the clock. Half past four in the afternoon. Weighing the time he had before the gathering, he decided to return home for an early dinner with his family. The meeting was likely to last all night.

“Heading out early, sir?” His assistant asked. He paused for a moment and faced the young shinobi.

“Did you know that aide? The one that just came through?” He watched his assistant’s reaction, trying to see anything that told him he was lying. In place of that, he only found recognition.

“Yes, Lord Tsuchikage. Her name is Ao Nakamura. She’s been an aide for the Council for the last three months. Lived here all her life, according to her.” He shrugged. “Is there a problem?” The seed of doubt had been planted. Frowning, he stroked his chin.

“No, I suppose not.” Shaking his head, he continued to the door. “There’s no need for you to stay. Go home and get some rest.” His assistant nodded emphatically.

“Thank you, sir. Enjoy your evening.” Shutting the door to the office, the Tsuchikage made his way through the streets with crowds of people looking for a place to eat or spend their money. The ones that noticed him gave a bow of respect. He returned a warm smile and felt just a little better. It was a tremendous help to know they trusted him, strengthening his resolve. He _would_ find an answer. He owed them that much.

After dinner, he bid his family farewell, promising to be home before morning. His children protested but were outvoted by his wife. She ushered them away as he left their home. Two of his Jōnin, a firebrand young woman named Tota and a middle-aged man named Tanaka were waiting to accompany him to the meeting. Once he knew they were ready to go, he wasted no time getting them moving. It would be rude to leave the elders waiting.

The streets were still bustling as he passed through, though nobody tried to stop the trio. They made good time. People recognized him and parted without much hassle. Some people greeted him, but most just got out of the way When they turned north to head towards the Council’s meeting hall, he steeled himself for the onslaught of questions that likely awaited him. As the sun set, his mood darkened with the village.

The first sign of trouble was the empty entrance of the Council hall. No guards stood outside, nobody loitered around the doors, and there was no sound coming from inside. He ordered a halt immediately upon the realization. Tanaka pulled out a kunai knife and looked around suspiciously. He glanced at the man, feeling the same anxiety.

“Open the door. We need to see what’s happened here.” The shinobi nodded and gently, almost fearfully, placed his hand on the wooden door and pushed inward. Inside, bodies lined the hallway. Civilians and ninja alike lay dead leading all the way to the Council chambers at the end of the hall. His nostrils flared in rage and disgust. He had never felt so angry or distraught in his entire life, but showing weakness now was unbecoming of his rank. He turned to the kunoichi on his left.

“Tota, alert the ANBU immediately. I want every squad in the village.” She nodded, vanishing in the blink of an eye to carry out his orders. Gritting his teeth, he walked inside with his remaining Jōnin bodyguard. The pair respectfully and carefully made their way around the corpses, rage building with every step. When they reached the doors at the chamber’s entrance, the Tsuchikage pushed them open without hesitation. Inside was a scene more grotesque than any he was expecting.

The elders were dead, all of them sitting on a padded cushion at the top of a dais. Their throats were slit in a ghastly red smile, dried blood trickling down their chests and staining their clothes. Before each one of them sat a pristine set of teacups and plates of cold refreshments. Flies swarmed around the wounds in their necks, forming terrible, writhing necklaces. Tanaka let out a mortified sound, covering his mouth as if to prevent another from escaping. He began to reprimand the cowardice of the man, only to find that his own voice would not respond. Instead, he shut his mouth. The two just stared at the massacre, neither willing to break the silence first.

Near the back of the hall, movement caught his eye. A woman with long, flowing dark hair stepped out from behind a pillar. He recognized her immediately, only now she wore the white armor of the Leaf ANBU and a cat mask with blue markings in place of office attire and a black eye cover. A growl escaped his throat.

“Ao Nakamura?” He asked, struggling to maintain his composure. She responded in a flat, cold voice.

“No. I am Ocelot. I simply became Ao for a time.” She carelessly walked past her victims, kicking a lifeless hand out of her path. He didn’t think he could get angrier, but he did.

“Why did you do this? What purpose could this mindless slaughter serve?!” She didn’t appear at all ruffled by his ire, replying in a cool and even tone.

“Lord Danzo sends his regards. He says you know what you must do now.” There was a flash of light from behind, illuminating what little he could see underneath her mask. For the first time, he saw her eyes. They were milky white and bore into his soul. Understanding dawned on him at once.

“You’re a Hyuuga from the Leaf,” he said softly. That was why she wore the eye covering, he realized. It had nothing to do with blindness like he might have thought. Instead it was to hide her ability to see everything. Ocelot hesitated for a moment, and he could see her brows knit in thought.

“No,” she said, falling into a momentary stupor. She shook her head to clear the fluff, sounding more confident now. “No, I am not a Hyuuga. I am Ocelot.” Sliding her katana out of its sheath, she pointed it at him. A silent challenge.

Tanaka screamed in defiance and rage, springing into action, his kunai flashing. The agent ducked under the stab, slicing across his chest in a smooth arc. He sailed past her, falling to the ground rolling into a crouch. He wove a series of hand seals and the earth around Ocelot opened up into a hungry maw. She jumped to the side just before the earth disappeared, right into a second hole that opened up immediately after her feet left the ground. Again, she barely avoided the hole, landing right on its edge and gaining more distance from her opponent. _She’s good,_ the Tsuchikage thought. _Tota better get here soon._

The two shinobi came at each other again and again and again. The ANBU was highly trained, that was evident enough. She knew better now than to let her enemy weave hand seals, using every trick she had to prevent his hands from coming together. By the time Tota arrived with the Stone’s ANBU, Tanaka was beaten bloody. He could barely stand when his allies jumped in, ready to rumble. Ocelot paused, reevaluating the fight and, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth it, sheathed her weapon. The ANBU charged at her, but before their weapons made contact she began to sink into the shadows of the nearest corpse. When they reached her position, her head sunk into the earth and used the shadows of the corpses dotting the hallway to jump from body to body and make her exit. Tota screamed for them to follow, and she led the chase.

The shadow flew down the hallway, faster than any of his ANBU. The Tsuchikage knew what he had to do. When the fleeing target reached the door, she materialized out of the floor and started making a run for it. He closed his eyes, concentrated his chakra, and clapped his hands together. Around both of her legs, slabs of earth rose in the blink of an eye. The sound they made as they crushed her lower legs was horrific. Her screams of agony were almost worse. Almost.

Mostly undeterred by her shattered legs, Ocelot began crawling. She dragged herself a few feet before the ANBU surrounded her and forced her to a stop. As he approached, they lifted the girl up by the armpits. She whimpered and barely held back her pained sobs. Tota stormed up and punched her in the gut. The air escaping mixed with a cry of pain was almost too much to bear. When Tota raised her fist to strike again, he grabbed it firmly. She reared on him to lodge a complaint, but he cut her off with a look and shook his head.

“Not like this, Tota. It is not the way. I know how you’re feeling,” he said gingerly. “We’re all… disturbed.” He let go of her hand. Just when he thought she would see reason; she slapped the girl’s face so hard that her mask went flying off. She moaned pitifully, her head rolling to the side. He grit his teeth but said nothing. Tota grabbed her chin and spat in her face, and when that didn’t earn the reaction she wanted, she stomped on the girl’s ruined foot. A new round of agonized screaming started over. The Tsuchikage summoned two ANBU who were standing to the side. They had to literally drag Tota away. Ocelot shook, her breathing coming in short, shallow gasps.

“What to do with you?” He mused to himself. “We surely can’t allow you to live after this.” Her eyes widened in fear at his words. It did not give him pleasure like he thought it would. Instead, he felt like the bad guy. It took him reminding himself of the two or three dozen dead behind him to rouse himself. Still, he felt pity for the girl. “I’ve decided. You will be executed for your crimes.” She let out a sob. From pain or fear, he didn’t know. Her lips were moving, and she was whispering.

“Please… please don’t kill me, I’ll do better. Please…” she trailed off, tears streaming down her face. With a jolt, Tsuchikage realized he wasn’t who she was speaking to. Her eyes were focused on a point up and behind him. Before he could look, she whispered so softly that he strained to hear.

“No,” she muttered. “Please.” As the last word came from her mouth, an arrow fletched with orange feathers sprouted from her neck. Blood sprayed the Tsuchikage and the two ANBU holding her. They quickly dropped her mangled corpse and rushed to defend their leader. He was too shocked to move, staring at the girl he only knew as Ao Nakamura, or Ocelot, bleeding to death from an arrow to the throat. As his guards pushed him towards the safety of the hall filled with his dead citizens, he barely had time to glimpse two figures in Leaf ANBU gear on the roof. One was kneeling, holding a bow with a sheath of arrows on their back. The other stood and watched. In the dim light of the setting sun, he could barely make out the red glow from the eye slits.

Just before the outer doors shut, he looked back and saw that the two figures were now on the ground. The one with the bow was touching Ocelot’s body. The other was picking up her mask. The corpse flared with green chakra more akin to flames than any other chakra he’d ever seen. Watching her corpse burn, he couldn’t help but hear her ominous words. _Lord Danzo sends his regards. He says you know what you must do now._

And he did. He knew what action must be taken.

* * *

**Hidden Leaf Village**

Training ground 47

Yahiko’s soaked hand twitched again. It had been doing that a lot lately, ever since he came to Minato and asked him for training. There was something about the man that awed him. Yes, he was the ruthless killer that didn’t hesitate to slit a dead woman’s throat, but he was also a gentle soul that loved his village. The love he felt for the Hidden Leaf compelled him to do terrible things in order to protect it. Yahiko understood that, deep down, Minato was not a bad person. He just did bad things for seemingly good reasons. He thought that was noble, in its own sort of way. The pursuit of prosperity couldn’t possibly be a bad thing, could it? Even if it came at the cost of human lives? He didn’t have an answer.

Sighing, he pushed that thought aside and raised his eyes to his master. The blonde man sat exactly five feet away from Yahiko in the shade of a large oak. Scars from years of shinobi training here marred the bark above Minato’s head. Lines of dissatisfaction made the usually friendly face appear cold and distant. He shook his head, scooping up another ball and tossing it at Yahiko. Deftly catching it, Yahiko grimaced. His hand was tired after so many burst water balloons, but he knew that until he did it the _right way_ , he would continue.

“Again,” Minato ordered. Crossing his arms across his chest, he gazed down at the polka-dotted balloon. Yahiko grit his teeth and concentrated. Chakra generated in his core travelled up into the cavity of his chest and sat still for a moment. It entered his left arm, snaking up his chakra network to the palm of his hand where it shot into the balloon in a spiral. The water thrashed in a whirlpool; the balloon burst in a violent pop. Water was flung outward in a haphazard circle. Yahiko silently cursed. He’d done what he was told, but his eagerness to progress botched the execution. In theory, he was doing exactly what he needed to. In practice, it was more nuanced. He bit his lip and waited, knowing he was going to do it again. Minato shook his head disapprovingly. When his head stopped, he fixed Yahiko with a flat stare.

“What are you doing wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Yahiko answered.

Minato nodded insistently. “You do, you just don’t want to analyze.” His voice was hard, the way a Jōnin spoke to an insubordinate Genin. For a moment, neither one of them spoke. The difference between them in ranks was, technically, nonexistent. Both of them were now full Jōnin after the latest mission. But the role of master and student was a stark contrast to the comrade-like atmosphere Yahiko imagined. Blowing out an explosive breath, he looked toward the sky.

“I generate the chakra in my core,” he began. “Then, I let it rest in my chest before directing it down my chakra networks. Finally, I bring it up into my palm and send it spiraling into the balloon. The balloon pops. Water flies.” His fingers wiggled to simulate the water droplets splashing everywhere. Minato didn’t entertain the gesture with his usual easygoing smile. Instead he pulled out a balloon of his own and cupped it in his hand. Yahiko couldn’t see the chakra, but it was evident in the balloon when it came. The outer shell, as he had come to understand it, writes under the pressure. It popped after a few seconds, causing Minato to wipe his hand dry on the grass. He looked at Yahiko expectantly.

“What was different between our balloons?” He knew what the answer was, Yahiko was sure of it. He just wouldn’t share. He never shared what he knew, always insisting that Yahiko speculate over every detail to figure it out for himself. Often, the two parted with frustrated goodbyes and Yahiko’s head pounding because of it. The tension that Minato’s teaching style induced between them irritated Yahiko to no end. He just didn’t understand why his master couldn’t explain why he was unhappy and how it could be fixed. Concentrating harder, he racked his brain. What _had_ been different?

“You mean besides the color scheme?,” he joked lamely. The quip fell flat, Minato obviously unmoved. Yahiko grit his teeth and felt his nails digging into his palms. Taking a calming breath, he closed his eyes and called a visual of the balloon popping in Minato’s hand. He figured it didn’t take long for the senior shinobi to summon and mold his chakra. After years of experience, it would be easy for him to summon it, coil it down to his palm and send it into the water, forcing it to pop. Besides that, Yahiko couldn’t think of anything he had done differently. Going over every single detail, he compared the two bursts from start to finish. There wasn’t much since he couldn’t see Minato’s chakra formation or channeling. But the bursting of the balloon… His eyes shot open and found Minato’s.

“The balloons burst differently,” he said. Excitement filled him from top to bottom when his master smiled and nodded. Minato grabbed another balloon.

“Yes, and no.” Yahiko’s chest ached with the sweet memory of his fleeting happiness. He caught the balloon when it was thrown to him.

“You’re correct about the bursting bit, but that isn’t all.” Minato glanced at the balloon in his palm. “The point of this phase is to _circulate_ the chakra before bursting the balloon. What you’ve been doing so far is technically correct, but you’re failing to grasp the _purpose_ this phase teaches.” The balloon started to shiver in his hand, turning into a raging swirl that burst the thin shell. Yahiko thought he was getting it, but Minato wasn’t finished.

“The second thing, the part you didn’t realize, is that your timing is off.” Confused, his face scrunched up.

“What does _that_ mean?,” he questioned. Minato nodded his head, realizing his mistake.

“Let’s take a step back. Imagine molding your chakra. Usually, you mold chakra in an effort to transform it into a brand-new elemental nature.” Yahiko perked up at the mention of elemental jutsu. He listened intently as Minato continued. “Instead of trying to transform the raw energy into an elemental technique, this jutsu aims to utilize the raw energy itself.”

“Could you apply elemental change in chakra nature to that energy?” Yahiko asked excitedly. Minato chuckled and shrugged.

“I suppose so,” he mused. “But that would take someone extremely gifted. Not to mention the large chakra reserves needed. Change in chakra natures is a hard technique even for a Jōnin. That’s why I’m sticking to raw chakra with this jutsu.” A thoughtful look crossed his face, and Minato shook his head. “Let’s not get sidetracked, okay?”

Yahiko deflated a bit, but nodded, nonetheless. “Right, so, my timing is off?” He was starting to absorb some of the teachings, especially since he was actually getting feedback. Minato clapped his hands together.

“Precisely,” he agreed. “Imagine a taijutsu user that enhances their physical attacks with chakra. This shinobi has decided to kick a pole, but their chakra is a fraction of a second too late. Upon impact, their shin is shattered.” The brutal imagery made Yahiko wince. An idea formed in his head, sprouting from his lips before he could stop it.

“The chakra stopping in my chest,” he breathed. “That’s what you mean.” The smile that broke out on Minato’s face confirmed his theory.

“Bingo. Now, back to the taijutsu user.” He was clearly pleased with the analogy, so Yahiko just nodded along.

“The point is, regardless of the muscles in his leg being enhanced by chakra or not, the _timing_ of the enhancement is what matters. Too slow, and your broken leg is enhanced by chakra.” Tapping his leg, he moved on. “It’s useless after being broken. But if it’s enchanted _before_ hitting the pole, devastating damage is inflicted.

“In your case, the chakra hesitates in your chest. This hesitation forces your mind to subconsciously realize it needs to play catch-up and sends it out of your hand in a frenzy. Instead of _swirling_ the chakra to burst the balloon, it _blasted_ it out.” Blowing out a breath, Minato settled back into silence. He made eye contact with his pupil, who stared at him in amazement.

“Why can’t you be like this all the time, sensei?” Minato leaned back against his tree and gave Yahiko an amused smile.

“Think about it.” He raised his hand and held up a finger. “One, I won’t always be there to explain a situation.” Holding up a second finger, his smile vanished. “Two, you’re a smart kid with a ton of potential. I believe in your ability to reason in any situation. Only you are standing in the way of that.” Lowering his hand, Minato watched his student. Yahiko’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded gratefully, not trusting himself to speak.

The balloon held a new layer of nuance to him. It wasn’t just a water balloon; it was a tool to be manipulated. Ignoring the ache from his worn-out chakra networks, he shut his eyes to concentrate again. First, he built up a wave of chakra in his core. Next, he willed it to rise into his chest. As soon as he felt it reach his shoulders, he commanded it to flow down his left arm. It obeyed, washing down his strained chakra network like hot water. The discomfort was almost enough to throw his concentration, but he willed himself to stay strong. Soon enough, the chakra was pooling at his palm. With concentrated effort, he sent the chakra into the water balloon and began spinning the raw energy.

For the first time since he began practicing this technique, the balloon did not immediately explode. When he opened his eyes, he saw a contorting balloon much like Minato had produced. He knew he had succeeded, but before he could relish the accomplishment, it burst. Satisfaction washed over him. Laying his drenched hand on his thigh, he inhaled deeply.

“Like that?,” he said, smiling. The feeling he got when Minato nodded was almost like euphoria.

“Yes. Just like that.” Thinking that was the end of it, Yahiko started to stand up. It was only when he saw another balloon coming at him that he realized they weren’t done. He caught it and stared disbelievingly at Minato. For his part, Minato ignored the incredulous look.

“Only two more,” he promised. Yahiko sat down, repeating the process once more, then again. Two burst balloons later, Minato was satisfied.

“Good work, seriously.” Grabbing the now empty bucket, he stood up. “You can rest for the next few days if you want. Or you could buy some balloons and practice on your own.” Yahiko joined him in standing.

“And what will you be doing?,” he said with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t normal for Minato to pawn him off like this. He had learned, even in their short time as master and pupil, that loyalty and teamwork were important to him. Minato gave him a frown, his brows furrowing.

“I’d rather not say.” And that was the end of it. Yahiko nodded, dejected. He was foolishly hoping they were close enough that Minato would open up a bit. He knew so much about Yahiko, but the younger man knew next to nothing about his teacher. The man valued his privacy almost as much as his other virtues. Knowing he would get nothing more, Yahiko bowed slightly.

“Until next time, then. Good luck on whatever you’re doing.” Minato returned the bow and they parted ways. As soon as Yahiko rejoined civilization, his stomach began to growl. He was easily persuaded into buying half a dozen sweet rice balls by an overly polite street merchant. The man swiped the cash from his hand and grinned widely, trying to sell some soy sauce that would match the flavors perfectly. Yahiko was already walking away though.

There was something peaceful in the streets that night. People were out, joyfully celebrating with their friends or families. Shops were busier than ever with lines stretching to the end of the block. Yahiko waded through the crowd, carefully raising, and lowering his tray of rice balls. The throng was thickest on the streets lining the respective clan homes. Streamers and lanterns strung across the rooftops let him know that a celebration of sorts was ongoing. He didn’t get to come to this district often, so whatever was going on was unknown to him. Curious it’s piqued, he made a sharp turn towards the festivities.

He passed the homes of the Nara and Inuzuka clans. The heir of the Nara clan, Shikaku, stood guard outside of his compound with another of his kin. He gave a friendly nod as Yahiko passed, which he returned.

“Rice ball?” He said, holding one up. Shikaku accepted and split it with his cousin. Yahiko stayed for a bit, chatting, and exchanging good-natured insults before parting ways. Further down the street, other clans were handing out gift bags and other trinkets. Distributing goods further down the street in front of the compound of clan Senju, a familiar shock of medium-length purple hair caught his eye.

Konan stood with two other girls he didn’t know, probably members of the clan, in matching kimonos and light makeup. She was amazing. Yahiko hadn’t seen her in nearly a month, hadn’t spoken to her in nearly two. Seeing her now was like a punch to the gut and a super magnet in tandem. He wanted to go up and talk to her, but would she say anything more than a courteous greeting? The doubt that suddenly plagued him was another blow to his confidence.

When he finally focused again, he was in Konan’s line in front of the Senju clan’s gates. He didn’t even realize he moved. Now he was two spaces away from her. He still had time to walk away before she noticed him. _Move,_ he ordered himself. His legs refused to obey. Now there was only one person between them. _Think of something to say_ , he commanded. _Think!_ The man in front of him was talking conversationally. He said something about drinks with Tsunade later, but Yahiko didn’t catch the rest. He accepted his bag and moved out of the way. When Konan saw him, she gasped slightly.

“Yahiko,” she said breathlessly. His mind was completely blank. Nothing came out of his mouth, despite it hanging open. Instead of her offering him a gift bag, he held up his tray.

“Rice ball?,” he asked.

* * *

**Hidden Leaf Village**

Danzo Shimura’s safehouse

Mikoto’s ears rang. Her muscles tensed. Her mouth was dry. Did Lord Danzo really tell her what she thought he did? Her lips parted, trembling slightly. She hoped her voice held its customary neutral tone.

“What did you say, Lord Danzo?” She didn’t like how weak she sounded. It would not go unnoticed. Lord Danzo missed nothing.

“You heard me, Raven. I ordered you to capture Kushina Uzumaki, or failing that, to kill her.” Silence followed his words. Mikoto wanted to tell him no. She wanted to rage and scream that she would never kill her best friend, and that he could rot in hell. It would be so easy to take out her weapon and end his miserable life.

But she didn’t. Her training and obedience were too strong. Instead, she just stayed kneeling and gripping her fist. Lord Danzo didn’t seem to notice. Turning, he waved her off.

“Follow your orders,” he said, dismissing her. She stayed kneeling behind him, unsure if she could stand. Danzo, not heating her stand, faced her with an angry look.

“Now!” He snapped. “They’re moving her _tonight._ If we lose her now, she’ll be out of our hands for good. Jiraiya will not allow us to reach her once she’s away.” His hand flung upward. “Get going!”

In a few moments, Mikoto was outside the building. Her head swam. She was capable of doing terrible things for the village. Her career was nothing but violence for the sake of her home’s success. But this? It didn’t make any sense to kill the Leaf’s only jinchūriki, and she didn’t know why Kushina needed to be captured. Her entire life was about following order, never questioning them. It was a unique experience. It was also one that she couldn’t linger to absorb.

Scanning the village, Mikoto calculated where Kushina might be at this time of day. If they were moving her, she probably wouldn’t be at her home. She could be out of the village at this point, and Mikoto would be wasting her time. A frown creased her brow. No, Kushina was a bubbly person with many friends and connections. It was highly unlikely she would just up and leave without saying goodbye.

“Now, where would she start?,” she mumbled. If Kushina had gone to say farewell to Mikoto, she would’ve found an empty apartment. She only just got back from the operation in the Land of Earth an hour ago. There was no time to focus on that, not yet. It was too painful. Ocelot’s lifeblood pulsing from the arrow wound in her neck… Mikoto shook her head. _Stop that_ , she scolded herself. _Focus on the mission._

What would be the next logical place for Kushina to go? She had no family Mikoto knew about, and too many friends to stop and see them all. Whoever was in charge of getting her out of harm’s way wouldn’t let her linger in danger that long. If Mikoto had to guess, Minato would be involved somehow, and he would have something to say about that, too. It was likely that he would go with her, if only for a time. So, where would the two of them go after her empty domicile? What connection did the two of them share?

Her eyes flitted to the clan compounds near the heart of the village. Crowds of people were gathered near the various homes of the ninja world’s most prolific warrior families. _Jiraiya,_ she thought. _They would go to see the Hokage. And he’s likely with his new lover._ Nodding slightly, she was sure that her assessment would prove true. Standing, she leapt from rooftop to rooftop towards her mission objective. If anybody had the sense to look up, her approach would easily be noticed and countered. Lucky enough for Mikoto, people rarely bothered looking up.

She stopped on top of the Senju clan’s main compound and listened intently. The cries of joy and celebration were there, but she was trained to hear everything. Separating that from the closer noise, she picked up on two voices beneath her. She turned to face the direction they came from. Beneath a blossom tree, a girl in a kimono and a boy wearing a flak jacket were speaking quietly.

“Did you come here for the celebrations, or so you could surprise me?” The girl asked, slightly defensive.

“I was training with Minato all day,” the boy replied. “I didn’t even know this shindig was going on.” Mikoto was inclined to believe him. His voice indicated he was being honest, though the girl wasn’t yet convinced.

“I want to make it perfectly clear, Yahiko.” she said. “Lady Tsunade doesn’t want _any_ mishaps. That includes—,” she was cut off by the boy tossing aside his half-eaten rice ball and grabbing her shoulders.

“Will you just listen to me?!” He shouted. Her eyes widened and he spoke like he had to get the words out or they’d consume him. “I missed you, Konan. I missed you more than I know how to say.”

A wave of discomfort rippled through Mikoto. She got the feeling that it wouldn’t be appreciated if they found her listening in. Slipping away as quietly as she could, she made her way to the back of the building. Down below, a courtyard of Senju clansmen and their guests milled around an extravagant social gathering. Leaders from the other clans were there too, in solidarity no doubt. Presenting a unified front. But for what, Mikoto didn’t know.

She scanned the courtyard with her Sharingan now activated. The dull red glow was dimmed by the setting sun, so she was probably safe from being spotted. Still, she hugged the roof tightly. It took several minutes of studying faces until she found her target. Kushina Uzumaki stood with her husband, Minato Namikaze, speaking to Tsunade Senju. Mikoto edged forward a bit and began reading their lips.

_It’s a shame to see you go,_ Tsunade said. Pulling the younger woman into a hug, she planted a kiss on Kushina’s cheek. _We’re all poorer without you._ Kushina just laughed and wriggled free.

_I’m not dying, ya know! Just hiding out for a bit._ That made Minato squirm uncomfortably. His face was hidden, so Mikoto didn’t know what he said. Thankfully Tsunade was kind enough to call out a name loud enough for Mikoto to hear.

“Jiraiya!” She called across the yard. “Come see your brats off. They’re chomping at the bit to be off.” Grabbing Kushina’s arm gently, the older woman guided her guest underneath the terrace. Mikoto cursed quietly. She would have to reposition herself to get a better view.

When she finally decided it would be a good idea to regain a visual sightline on Kushina, an almost indiscernible whistle caught her ear. Two short notes, then a pattern she was unfamiliar with. Minato, however, seemed to know it well. His eyes shot to the roof. Mikoto knew she had to move quickly, but it was too late. He’d spotted her. In an instant, he was gone. She jumped out of the way just as his kunai shot for her heart.

She spun away from him and he gave chase. They danced, silent and lethal, trading blows and generally testing the limits of their opponent. It was common knowledge that Minato could manipulate teleportation jutsu as long as he placed seals every now and then. Mikoto knew well enough not to get touched. It would definitely spell her defeat. What _wasn’t_ widely known was that teleportation jutsu had a vulnerability. It could only be used after a one-second cool down. Meaning that right after Minato teleported, he needed to wait to use it again. He could be struck in the timeframe. She just had to be perfectly like clockwork. So she waited. Blocked. Waited. Parried, dodged back. Waited. Until the perfect moment.

Minato’s fatigue started to show. The one-second delay became a one-and-a-half second delay. Then two-second. After the third two-second delay, Mikoto wheeled around and sliced upward. The kunai flew from Minato’s hand. He blinked in surprise and just stared at Mikoto. She rushed him, raising her blade to strike him across the face. He vanished at the last moment and she jumped down onto the terrace. Surprised gasps came from everyone in the vicinity of her landing, but she ignored them. Her eyes shot to where Kushina and Tsunade should’ve been. She was correct, but Jiraiya and Minato were there too. _This is an impossible task_ , she thought.

They stood there, Minato and Mikoto, eyeing each other. Thankfully, he hadn’t been able to plant a seal on her. She was safe from that avenue of attack, at least. The weight of her katana was becoming too much to bear, and her hands began shaking. Breathing became difficult, and she started to hyperventilate. Slowly, at first, then progressively faster. Over and over again, the same phrase repeated in her mind.

_I can’t do it._

Her entire life, she’d been a slave to the Foundation. She’d lost her family, her betrothal, her friendships, her hobbies, her _identity_. Everything that made Mikoto herself was abandoned the day she was chosen as a candidate for Danzo Shimura’s twisted pet project. It demanded everything of her, consuming and destroying until only Raven was left behind. And she couldn’t do it anymore.

“I surrender,” she muttered. “I surrender.” Letting out a defeated whimper, Mikoto dropped her weapon. Literally falling to her knees, her body was racked with sobs. The sudden outburst shocked Minato, but he recovered quickly and eyed the agent suffering a mental breakdown with suspicion. Behind him, Kushina frowned and squinted.

“Wait a minute. I recognize that voice.” She said, realization dawning on her. ”Mikoto?” She asked gently. She shoved past her husband, walking slowly at first. After Mikoto failed to answer or make any sort of attempt to respond, she came to a stop and knelt in front of her friend. She removed the mask covering Mikoto’s face. She quickly recoiled when it came off. Alarm and confusion coated her features, but she didn’t move back any further.

“Mikoto,” she said gently. “What happened to your eyes?” The change was such a recent one that Mikoto herself hadn’t realized. Now that attention had been called to them, they _burned_. Her hand reached up and wiped away her unusually thick stream of tears, coming away bloody. She fell silent, though her body still shook. Looking up at Kushina, more bloody tears leaked from her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Help me.” Kushina, to her credit, didn’t flinch. She embraced Mikoto with no regard for her own safety. Minato quickly crossed the distance and grabbed the discarded katana. He eyed Mikoto suspiciously, watching every movement she made. Mikoto tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come. She wanted to spew everything she knew about the Foundation. She wanted to warn Kushina. She wanted to scream. But she could only whimper, crying tears of blood and suffering her burning eyes.

Jiraiya was quick to act. He quietly but forcefully informed the gazing crowd that the reception was over. They were instructed to leave the compound, escorted out by the hidden shinobi all around the event. They made themselves known once their orders were confirmed and within a few minutes, the group of five was alone on the terrace. Minato gave her weapon away to a nearby Chūnin and returned to his silent vigil. He wouldn’t let Kushina come to harm, and his glare promised violence if she tried. She wouldn’t. Kushina rose to her feet and coaxed Mikoto to stand as well. Gripping her arms, Kushina spoke.

“Were you really here to hurt me?” She sounded more curious than offended. Mikoto nodded and opened her mouth to speak. The seal that was placed on her tongue as a child paralyzed her ability of speech. When she didn’t answer, Kushina frowned.

“Are you alright? Are you…. safe?” Mikoto blinked in surprise and locked eyes with her friend. After showing up to kill or capture her, the selflessness, and in fact concern of the question, astounded Mikoto. Trembling she opened her mouth, willing herself to speak. But again, her voice failed her. After her second failed attempt to put Danzo, she simply shook her head _no_. She wasn’t safe. Neither of them were.

“Why isn’t she saying anything?” Minato asked impatiently. “We need answers, Mikoto!” Kushina shot him a glare, but he was too agitated to acknowledge it. The danger to Kushina’s life was getting to him. She backed away from Kushina’s grasp and opened her mouth hesitantly. If she did this, there would be no going back. The Foundation would disown her for sure, possibly even mark her for death. Swallowing nervously, she opened her mouth as wide as possible and stuck her tongue out as much as she could manage. The seal on her tongue drew a surprised gasp from Kushina, an angry growl from Jiraiya, and stoic sympathy from Tsunade and Minato. The blonde man looked a lot less aggressive now.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” Mikoto said in a quiet voice. “The Foundation knows all. They wouldn’t let me say anything.” She shook miserably, unable to communicate the exact nature of the danger. “You need to leave, Kushina. Quickly.” Kushina deflated. For once, her outgoing attitude gave in to the fear and stress hiding just beneath the surface. It surprised Mikoto, but now was not the time for weakness. At least, not for Kushina. The redhead turned and faced the two Sannin.

“Lord Hokage,” she began. “Please help her. She’s my best friend, and I know she deserves the chance to heal.” For the second time that evening, Kushina’s words moved her. Was there no end to her empathy and compassion? Mikoto hoped not. Selfishly, she wanted all that her friend could spare. She glanced at Jiraiya hopefully. He studied her intently for a few moments, then gave a curt nod.

“Alright,” he growled. “You’re under arrest, Mikoto Uchiha. Don’t try to resist and this whole process will go a lot easier.” Three shinobi surrounded her. She did nothing to hinder her arrest before being lead quickly away in chains.

“Thank you,” Kushina said breathlessly, trembling. “I know she can heal.” Jiraiya stared after the ROOT agent, hoping Kushina was right.

“I hope so,” he said. “I really do.”


	6. Set In Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagato takes steps to distance himself from the village permanently, setting events in motion that can never be undone.

**Field operation**

One month later 

Konan peered through the bushes at the group beyond the tree line. The Hidden Stone’s border incursion wasn’t going well at all. Two of their members had already been wounded falling from trees during their journey, and they looked to be running low on supplies as well. They sat around a campfire in the small clearing cooking an abysmal excuse of a meal. The boy in charge wasn’t paying attention and the smell of something burning reached her nose. One of the older shinobi, a young woman with medium-length auburn hair, noticed and let her discontent be known.

“Dammit, Shin!” She shouted in a gravelly voice. “How in the fuck do you burn stew?! It’s a liquid!” The boy’s face and neck flushed red as he began stirring again.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. “Just hungry, captain.” She smacked the back of his head.

“We all are, you idiot! This is what we get for being so fucking rash. Cut off from support and damn near out of supplies!” Huffing, she rose to her feet. “Just cook, damn you.” Without another word, she stomped off toward the trees. The rest of her band shared a look but didn’t comment on the outburst. Konan assumed it was a regular occurance. Just another lash-out in a long series. She committed it to memory. If she could understand how this captain thought and behaved, she could defeat or capture her.

This was her second time being the Jōnin mission leader, and her first mission since the deceptive infiltration of the Hidden Stone. While it felt good to finally be out of the village again, she still doubted her ability to lead. For now, all was well, but she knew that could all change in an instant.

The party in the clearing didn’t seem to notice they were being watched and nobody in her team had died or been hurt yet. Still, she doubted. So much could go wrong. So many unpredictable scenarios could shatter her plans. If that happened, it was up to her to lay out and enact a new plan of action. That terrified her.

When the captain returned, she joined her team by the fire and quietly apologized. Her subordinate accepted, probably more out of fear than actual acceptance. Nonplussed, she declared that their supper was ready as it would ever be and started pouring bowls for everyone. They are like starving men, which Konan had to admit wasn’t far from the truth by the look of it. After a few more moments she leaned back against a tree. Was this all she was going to see? Would the captain admit defeat before the Leaf even found out what their objective was? She had no idea.

The team of five infiltrated the Land of Fire four days ago. Konan’s team had been hastily assembled and ordered to intercept and monitor them. That was easy enough since all they’d done is set up camp and wait. And wait, and wait. The stillness was starting to drive her crazy. Her anxiety was building with each passing hour, but she was under strict orders to only act as a deterrent or in a defensive manner. If they caused trouble, run them off. If they attacked civilians or attempted sabotage, she was to kill them. Her home was invaded and she could only watch; it rubbed her the wrong way. Just when she was about to summon a relief watch, the boy Shin raised his eyes from his food.

“Where is this contact we’re supposed to meet?” Konan blinked and sat forward. Did she hear that right? Somebody in the Land of Fire was their _contact?_ It wasn’t such an unusual concept. People betrayed their homeland all the time. But still, this time it seemed even worse. One of her fellow citizens of the Land of Fire was helping these foreign shinobi. The intel was worth reporting, she decided. Her skin peeled and a small piece of paper lifted underneath the top layer. She grabbed it and her skin solidified. Her ability often drew looks of distaste from her comrades, but I’m scenarios like this it was important.

She scribbled down notes and continued her observations. The captain wiped her mouth and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was told to get us here and wait.” She shot her injured comrades a look. “We’ve got good reason to just wait here for a bit anyway.” The ninja wore twin expressions of humility, but Konan felt that she hadn’t meant to shame them. Frowning, she wrote down another line. _Seems to jump from one emotional extreme to the other._ Perhaps it was an unfair estimation, but she didn’t have time to spare feelings. This was war.

Things quieted down after the group finished their meal. Most of them settled down to sleep while the boy Shin was selected for the first watch. His comrades dozed off while the fire petered out to a smoldering pile of ash. Hours crept by and the moon reached its apex. Shin was beginning to nod off, and Konan couldn’t blame him. The last few hours held no notable events whatsoever. It was getting more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. Perhaps it would be best if she summoned her own watch replacement for a few hours of rest. That thought was short lived.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement. Just a fraction of a second, but long enough for her eyes to shoot open. Her hand closed around the grip of a kunai knife and her gaze was locked at the section of trees where she saw the figure. For a few heartbeats, she wondered if she was paranoid. The sentry in the clearing hadn’t seen it, or if they did they weren’t as jumpy as Konan. But despite that, she was sure something was there.

Silently, Katsuki Sarutobi landed on the ground beside her. His face was tense and he pointed in the same direction. He’d seen it too, and decided to report it. She gave a curt nod and flashed a hand signal. _Prepare._ He disappeared as silently as he came, going from hiding spot to hiding spot rousing their comrades. Konan’s hand trembled slightly as she waited for something to happen.

A stone clattered and every insect in the forest stopped at once. Although just a stone, it might as well have been an avalanche. Shin was up and armed in an instant. His face was set in a scowl and his captain was clambering to her feet. Still groggy from sleep, she shouted a challenge.

“Who’s there?!” She said, slurring the words slightly. The rest of her team scrambled to their feet. The part of the woods that the stone’s sound came from seemed particularly ominous. Konan swallowed dryly. She wished dearly that her heart would stop beating so damn loud. The silence was killing her. Apparently, the captain had similar ideas.

“Come on out!” She said. “You made yourself known, just give it up!” Sounding a hundred times more confident than Konan felt, her words seemed to inspire her subordinates. They adopted similar scowls and drew weapons. Whoever created the disturbance seemed to be convinced. Their game was up, as the captain said. The dark figure appeared again, a tall, thin person with long and shaggy hair. As it drew nearer and stepped into the moonlight, Konan’s breath caught in her throat.

 _No,_ she thought. _Anybody but him. Please, God, no._ She hoped with every fiber of her being that her eyes were just playing tricks on her. Anybody could mimic appearances. It was easy to do. But a voice was harder to fake, and she was incredibly familiar with this one.

“Calm yourselves,” Nagato Uzumaki said. “I come in peace.” Her whole body felt numb and a cold lump formed in her stomach. She’d heard Nagato’s voice countless times. It matched the cadence she knew so well, his particular way of speech, even the slightly higher than normal pitch. There was a possibility this was a fake, but she doubted it. She just didn’t believe someone would go through the trouble to frame him. Which meant that it really was Nagato standing in that clearing speaking to foreign ninja.

“Who are you?” The captain demanded. She was on edge now, eyes flitting from tree to darkened tree. Nagato held his hands in the air.

“A friend,” he said. She scoffed at him.

“Friends don’t sneak up on you like that.” She shrathed her tanto and waved her team down. They didn’t like the order, but they followed it. Nagato set his arms back down to his sides.

“I assure you, I don’t sneak around like my comrades; I made myself known.” Blood turning to ice, Konan dropped her kunai. It softly hit the dirt and settled to one side. _He knows,_ she realized. _He’s known for some time. But why did he tell her?_ She didn’t know, and she was freezing up.

“As for my name, you can call me Nagato Uzumaki.” He bowed in a fake display of chivalry. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” The captain sneered and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Yeah yeah,” she spat. “Uzumaki, huh? Thought your clan got wiped during the first Great War.” Nagato shifted uncomfortably. Konan too believed that his clan was mostly dead. He and Kushina were the only living members she’d ever met.

“No, not all of us.” He was quiet now, more reserved than a moment ago. Something that only he could hear claimed his attention for a bit. Shaking his head sadly, he returned to business as normal.

“Did you bring the map?” The captain asked. Nagato nodded slightly, reaching into his tool pouch and producing a folded parchment.

“I did.” He confirmed. “Do you have what I asked for?” Konan perked up again. _What could be so valuable that you’d betray your home, Nagato?_ The woman hesitated. Slowly nodding, she also pulled out a folded parchment.

“All the information we have on him,” she replied in a tight voice. “How you proceed is up to you, though. We can’t contain him forever.” Shin glanced from his captain to Nagato, clearly unsure.

“You’re really betraying him, Tota?” He questioned in a small voice. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“He’s a danger to the village.” She answered pathetically.

“He’s your _father_ , for Stone’s sake!” Shin sneered, finding his confidence. “And you’d deal with him, a Leaf Jōnin, because of your daddy issues!” He seemed satisfied with the flush that consumed her face. She rounded on him, forgetting Nagato for a moment.

“Careful, Shin,” she threatened. “Be very fucking careful.” Her hands were trembling with rage, and Konan wondered if she were actually watching a sitcom instead of an act of war. The ground next to her was disturbed as Katsuki returned. He quietly reported that all their teammates were ready on her command. Nodding, she picked her target. In the clearing, the Stone ninja were getting antsy. The power struggle was getting to them, and Nagato was forced to clear his throat to regain attention.

“The trade?” He pressed. Holding out the folded map, he eyed the parchment that the captain held tightly. She nodded, preparing to make the exchange when Konan gave the order to spring their trap. Kunai knives and ninja stars calms flying from a dozen different prearranged traps, catching the Stone ninja completely unaware. Before they realized what was going on, seven Leaf ninja jumped out of bushes and trees all around them.

Konan dashed toward Nagato. The surprise of the attack and the shock of seeing her rendered him immobile for a few valuable instants. She grit her teeth and, wishing that it didn’t have to be this way, swung her tanto upward in a fierce arc. Steel flashed and blood sprayed. Half of Nagato’s right ring finger and his entire right pinky hit the ground along with the bloodsoaked map. He jumped backward with a yelp of pain and grasped his mutilated fingers with his other hand. His purple swirling eyes were full of rage.

“Why did you do it?!” Konan screamed. “Why are you _here_ , Nagato? Betraying the village, and for what?” She pointed her weapon towards the downed captain. “Information on, from what I heard, a _single man_ that is estranged from his family!” Nagato grit his teeth. He exhaled and let go of his stumps of fingers. They fell to the ground without a sound.

“You don’t understand. It isn’t your business,” he said. Anger filled her.

“Of course it is,” she ground out. “Treason is _precisely_ my business.” Behind her, she heard Katsuki giving orders.

“Secure the survivors and then back up the captain.” Three of her comrades ran up to flank Nagato, which she was supremely grateful for. A Rinnegan user was nothing to sneeze at, especially not Nagato. He saw that they were trying to surround him and locked eyes with her.

“You shouldn’t have interfered. I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’ve left me no choice.” With that, he raised both hands until his arms were parallel with the ground. The four ninja facing him tensed, and when he spoke again it was almost a whisper.

“Almighty Push.” 

The forest literally exploded. The ground erupted and shot backward like a dirt tsunami. Her team was thrown about, and when she left the ground she landed hard against a tree. Upon impact, she promptly passed out. Inky blackness held her like a vice. She floated in the void, hearing faint voices calling her name and asking questions. To her, to each other, to no one in particular. Her head pulsed with pain and she felt her body swaying gently. An unknown amount of time later, her eyes slowly opened.

A dark room encompassed her. Shades blacked out the windows and her favorite candle was burning to her left. Frowning, she took a closer look around the room. Recognizable sights met her searching gaze and she began to notice something. It was her bedroom, she realized. Somebody had brought her home. Sitting up in bed, she heard voices out in the living room of her apartment.

“Help,” she called out meekly, but it was enough. Immediately the voices stopped, followed by a few sets of hurried footsteps. The door pushed open and Lady Tsunade entered her bedroom, followed shortly by Jiraiya-sensei. Konan barely had time to open her mouth before Tsunade was by her side, checking her pupils and asking her how she felt.

“A little parched,” she admitted. Tsunade snapped and Jiraiya, a bit dramatically but with a smile, fetched her a cup of steaming herbal tea. She was able to keep a few sips down and said her thanks to her teacher and master respectively. They wore concerned looks.

“Do you remember what happened?” Tsunade asked. It was a straightforward question, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing would come to the surface. Her mind was still too addled from pain.

“No, I can’t remember anything.” Tsunade shot a quick look to Jiraiya, who nodded grimly. He sat next to her master and appeared to be quite uncomfortable.

“During your mission, you encountered some Hidden Stone ninja.” He began slowly, recounting the details that she now remembered writing down to report later. She nodded along with the story until he paused. He was all choked up, she realized, blinking away tears. Tsunade laid a hand on his arm gently, comforting him. He couldn’t meet anybody’s gaze for a long time.

“Nagato…” he trailed off, staring into the distance. Something niggled in the back of Konan’s mind. Nagato did what? She was sure he’d done something, though she couldn’t remember what it was. When it became clear that Jiraiya wouldn’t, or couldn’t continue, Tsunade took up the mantle.

“Nagato Uzumaki has gone rogue.” She declared with clinical dispassion, though Konan caught the flicker of concern directed at her sensei. “He killed four members of your squad and put two in the hospital, one critically wounded, and the other being you.” It looked like she wanted to say more, but she stopped there.

The words hung in the air like a bad smell. Konan’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She wanted to protest, to defend her friend. He wouldn’t do something like that. Not Nagato. Not to her. And yet the truth of the words pierced her heart. She believed them even as she denied them in her mind. When she came to the conclusion that it was the truth in fact as much as in her belief, all anybody could do was sit in silence. And they did, for a long time. She felt numb, the betrayal fresh in her mind.

“Yahiko…?” The name was more than just a single question. It was a dozen, a hundred. Where is he? Does he know? What will he do about it? Will he go after Nagato? Can he even match Nagato’s power if he tried to stop him? So many more, but she couldn’t give voice to them all. Tsunade bit her lip. It was clear that she didn’t know everything Konan wanted to.

“He’s safe,” she assured her student. “A mission required a Jōnin team leader a few days after you left, and he’s been gone since. Although he should’ve been back two weeks ago.” That made Konan start. Two weeks? What kind of mission took more than a few weeks? And the timeframe she imagined didn’t match up either. Hesitantly, she swallowed and asked her next question.

“How long was I out?” It felt like an eternity before anyone gave her an answer. To her surprise, Jiraiya spoke up.

“You were hospitalized for a little over a month. Fractured skull.” He winced slightly. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re alive at all.” More silence. Leaning back into her pillows, Konan had a newfound appreciation for her modest bed. Tsunade nodded in agreement and squeezed her hand gently. 

“You’ve been home for three weeks with varying levels of coherence. This is the first full conversation you’ve been able to have.” A small smile appeared on her lips, but Konan couldn’t share it. She was in too bad a mood for visitors, she decided. Squeezing Tsunade’s hand, she let go and turned away from the two adults.

“Can I go back to sleep?” She asked. Mercifully, they agreed. Rising from the bed, Tsunade kissed her ear affectionately.

“Good night, Konan. Get some rest,” Tsunade said as she shut the door. It didn’t take long for Konan to shut her eyes and fall back into the dreamless void. She awoke several hours later and when she called, Tsunade came. The older woman was able to coax a small mixture of honey, oats, and some tasteless seeds into the younger girl despite her insistence that she wasn’t hungry. When it was gone, Konan noticed that her master was considerably subdued from earlier. She quickly figured out that Jiraiya was gone, but didn’t call attention to the shift. When she asked what day it was, she was shocked to learn that nearly a day and a half had passed.

“What’s making me sleep so much?” Konan asked curiously. She knew from her time training with Tsunade that sleep was the body’s way of healing itself. Still, this seemed a bit excessive. Nearly two months of constant rest; she should be plenty healed by now. Tsunade joined her on the bed.

“Your body has been hurt pretty bad,” she explained. “The skull fracture is a big part of it, though it isn’t everything. There’s also the shock of losing your teammates to contend with.” The reminder wiped whatever happiness remained in Konan. Slowly, she nodded. It made her think about them, and a sudden thought came to her mind.

“Who all died?” She asked, looking into Tsunade’s eyes. Twin orbs of amber frowned back at her.

“You don’t need to think about that right now.” That line of questioning died in its infancy. Shifting, Tsunade tried to recapture Konan’s attention. “Anyway, you’re sleeping a lot because, in addition to your body taking a toll healing the fracture, your mind is healing too.”

“I see,” Konan said, nodding. She didn’t know much about the healing arts except for the medical ninjutsu Tsunade taught her during her summer training a few years ago. The concept of broken bones was one she knew well, but a broken mind? It was completely out of her sphere of understanding. She didn’t even know if the mind itself could break. What happened to a person whose mind never healed? Suddenly uncomfortable, her gaze shifted back to Tsunade’s face. Her master was waiting patiently for her to organize her thoughts.

“So,” she said, desperately wanting to change the subject. “Are you going to reschedule your ceremony?” A dark look crossed Taunade’s face. She shook her head gingerly.

“There’s no need,” she said softly. “Officially, the rites have already been performed. Grandmother conferred the title of head of clan Senju to me after I finalized my debt payments.” She smiled widely. “Although I do miss my restaurant and it’s mahogany desk.” Konan couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good, the pleasantness of Tsunade’s company and whatever made her feel so warm. She supposed it was her body feeling normal for the first time in nearly two months. Whatever it was, she wanted it to continue forever. Unfortunately, her spurt of energy didn’t last, and she fell back asleep within the hour.

In her dreams, she was back in the clearing. Steel weapons clashing rang clearly in her ears. The slice of flesh and bone as she cut off Nagato's fingers. The smell of blood and death. Bodies crumpling as her team cut down one enemy shinobi after another. A verifiable massacre.

As the Stone ninja fell one by one, she heard Katsuki’s voice, except it sounded like a fading whisper. _Help the captain_ , he said. Konan stood at the ready, defying Nagato’s glare with one of her own. Yes, he was more powerful, but she had the will to take him on and a full squad of warriors to help her. She heard them now, their footsteps strangely sounding hollow and their movements creaky. Confused, she tore her eyes away from Nagato, who had begun streaming red smoke, and nearly screamed. Her teammates were skeletons; wraiths wearing flak jackets and Leaf headbands.

Her fists clenched tight and she was on the verge of panicking. Turning her focus back to Nagato, his hand was rushing toward her neck. It closed around her throat the same instant that her undead team lunged at her, raking her skin with their sharp finger bones. As Nagato strangled her, he called out to them, beckoning them to take their revenge against the one that killed them. _That was you,_ she tried to say. _You killed them, not me_. But it was no use. The four dead ninja would hear none of it. Their fingers burned as they ripped away at her. Everything they touched sloughed off her bones.

 _You led us to die_ , one of the spirits said in her left ear just before it bit the cartilage away. Another set of teeth closed around her right cheek. _We trusted you,_ it said. _We died because of you._ She opened her eyes in mute appeal to Nagato, but he didn’t stop them. Instead of helping her, his hand lifted up from his side and his open palm stood inches from her face.

 _Almighty Push_ , he said without speaking.

Suddenly, she was falling. Falling, falling like a heavy stone. Her skeletal attackers shifted from the remains of human beings to horrific winged beasts. They continued to rip and tear, but their new boney wings buffeted her as they fell. Finger bones turned into talons and sharp blades. The teeth in her right cheek turned into several daggers. The beast ripped her face open with a shake of it’s powerful neck. Blood red replaced her terrible nightmare, and she screamed. This time, her scream woke her up.

Apparently, it had woken Lady Tsunade, as well as half her apartment block. Her master stood over her, the lamp on her nightstand turned on. Cold sweat beaded her skin and her blankets were twisted all around her. Tsunade gently embraced her, stroking her hair and saying soothing things. Konan was unashamed to cry, to blubber like a tantruming toddler. Concerned neighbors came by every now and then, checking in. Tsunade would leave Konan only long enough to assure them that she was, physically at least, fine. Just nightmares. Then she would return and hold the crying teen.

“The poppy seeds,” Tsunade muttered. “I thought they might help. They reduced pain and encouraged sleep, but they allowed you to dream.” Konan shivered. After almost an hour of being held, her voice finally found itself.

“No more dreams,” she begged. “No more, please.” Her eyes began to tear up again. She couldn’t bear the thought of more guilt-ridden nightmares. If she had the choice, she’d rather die than see those ghouls again. Twisted mockeries of the ninja that her incompetence killed. Tsunade’s mouth twisted in a pained grimace. She nodded, letting Konan go and sweeping quickly into the kitchen. She was gone for several minutes, then returned with a cloudy white liquid in a small glass. Konan gratefully drank the thicc mixture, and within seconds her head was on her pillow.

She drifted into a deep, blissfully dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, and from only one perspective. I wanted to test out this style and see how it felt. Instead of forcing myself to condense events to get three or so different viewpoints, I decided to sacrifice plot development and try to dive deeper into one character. The effects of war on the psyche are another topic I wanted to touch on, since this story will include deaths and traumatic events. Please keep in mind that if it feels choppy sometimes, I’m an amateur writing this for fun. I still want it to be enjoyable though. I hope it doesn’t disappoint.


	7. Things To Drink On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sad news comes from Nagato’s betrayal, forcing Jiraiya to confront his new reality.

**Hidden Leaf Village**

Hokage’s office 

Jiraiya set down the field report with a sigh: he hadn’t been reading it anyway. Things were going from bad to worse very quickly. In the months since he ordered the infiltration of the Hidden Stone, he’d learned of the abduction of one jinchūriki and facilitated the death of another. He’d done his best to alert other villages, but they didn’t believe him. On top of that, the Hidden Stone seemed intent on starting a war.

Two months ago, an infiltration party crossed the border. Their objective was to acquire intel on the preparedness of the Land of Fire; troop numbers, maps, and the general state of the country. To make matters worse, his own apprentice Nagato Uzumaki, attempted to help them. According to the two prisoners captured during the mission, he offered a map with all the information the Stone ninja wanted. In exchange, he wanted information on a jinchūriki. The implications made Jiraiya incredibly uncomfortable.

What made it all worse was that he considered Nagato the most successful of all his students. He cared deeply for his three former pupils and the three that Minato was a part of before them, but Nagato’s betrayal hit especially hard. He’d seen much of himself in the young man. He also knew that Nagato never really found his place in the Leaf, but he’d never seen the darkness lying just below the surface. _No, that isn’t true_. A memory of something horrible surfaced as he thought back on his time with the trio.

He’d been busy that particular morning working on the first draft of his novel. The three children were out, presumably doing some ninjutsu training, when Konan burst inside the house screaming of trouble. In an instant, he was up and dashing outside. Konan led the way to her friends. They’d found them unconscious next to a dead man lying face-down. Jiraiya found it distasteful, quickly moving the boys inside and telling Konan to watch them while he buried the corpse. It was an unsettling affair.

But the man wasn’t just dead, he’d been slaughtered. His flesh was torn to shreds all along his chest. When he’d lifted the man up, his organs slid out. They, too, were shredded. It made the burial messy and a bit slippery, but he’d made sure the man at least had the honor of a final resting place.

He later found out that Nagato killed the man in defense of Yahiko, though neither of them could say just exactly how he’d done it. It was at that moment that Jiraiya knew a dark presence existed inside his student. A great deal of effort would be required to keep him on the path of righteousness. He’d thought that goal was achieved when Nagato became a ninja of the Leaf. How spectacularly stupid he’d been.

Four funerals attended. Four dead ninja that his disciple betrayed and murdered. Four deaths that ultimately lay at his feet. Four more lives he would never be able to forgive himself for ending. While he knew lamenting in their loss would accomplish nothing, he couldn’t focus on anything else. Guilt kept him locked on the terrible situation he now found himself in. How had it all gone so wrong?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the bottle of sake he’d tried so hard to stay away from. This shift was only the second in which he’d remained sober for the past two months, but it likely wouldn’t stay that way. If it did, he would only blame himself again and again. And he was so tired of the blame.

Giving in, he grabbed the neck of the bottle and pulled it across the desk. A stack of papers shifted when it slid past, sending half the documents falling to the floor. He ignored them, choosing to forego the use of a glass and instead drinking straight from the bottle. The alcohol burned sweetly as he drank, carrying him away within a few minutes. There was no way he could possibly continue any work he’d pretended to be doing, so he elected to relax until he could slip out later that night. The bottle was a quarter further empty when his head finally dropped onto his chest.

An unknown amount of time later, a quiet knock on his office door stirred him awake. Blinking the dreariness away, he quickly stashed the booze under his desk.

“Come in,” he said, slurring slightly. The door opened and Tsunade stepped inside, bearing a grim expression. He didn’t understand until his two elderly councilors, Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, entered behind her. A sharp look of disapproval etched Koharu’s face, and he knew that he’d made a mistake.

“What is it now?” He asked tiredly. _So many mistakes, you great big fool_. Homura glanced at Tsunade and the two exchanged silent words. Finally, the old man cleared his throat.

“It has come to our attention that Katsuki Sarutobi has succumbed to his injuries and passed away.” A hot knife stabbed Jiraiya right in the guts. He’d been hoping beyond hope that his sensei’s firstborn son and heir would overcome his injuries and pull through. _Another death to drink over_ , he thought bitterly. Grimacing, he almost reached for the bottle again.

“This… is grave news indeed,” he said, not able to think of anything else. Tsunade flinched at his words and he kicked himself. _A terrible choice of words from a terrible Hokage_. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “Forgive me, I chose my words poorly.” Koharu scoffed, turning all eyes in the room.

“You’re drunk,” she pointed out. “You disgrace yourself, Jiraiya. You disgrace this office and the title you bear! Drunk in your own office like it was a trashy dive bar. Have you no shame?” Her words were tinged with rage and grief for her friend’s family, he knew. But that didn’t take the sting out of them. Glaring at her, he reached down to the bottle and brought it into view.

“What are you going to do about it?” Without breaking eye contact, he took another swig. He was sure that this was another mistake, but seeing her face turn an even darker shade of red was worth it. Homura and Tsunade did not share his view, and the looks that they both gave him told him as much. Still, nobody moved to take it away.

“You don’t have to take the blame, Jiraiya,” Tsunade said. “Nagato killed them, not you.” She was trying to reach him, he knew. Deep down, he appreciated the effort she was making. To comfort him without revealing their romantic interest in each other was a tricky thing. If she messed up, they’d surely have something to say. If only the part of him she appealed to now was sober, it might’ve worked.

“How can I _not_?,” he asked. “I trained him to be a ninja, to kill. I may as well have slain them myself.” A look of horror crossed their faces, surprising him. He expected that from Tsunade, but neither of his councilors was his biggest fan. Deep down, under the shame, he was grateful to them.

“Don’t say that.” Homura whispered. “Nobody could possibly have seen this coming.” Bile rose from his stomach. That was exactly the wrong thing to say.

“I should’ve.” Jiraiya whispered back. “I knew what he was capable of. I should’ve _seen_.” His frown deepened. Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a long drink. He didn’t stop until the last drop of alcohol dribbled down his chin. The councilors wore matching looks of concern and Tsunade looked ready to faint. Setting the empty bottle aside, Jiraiya wiped his mouth.

“Anything else?” He steeled himself, dreading what they would say.

“Danzo should be on this council,” Koharu declared. Jiraiya blinked in surprise. Out of everything that she could’ve said, that was the last thing he expected.

“Absolutely not,” he answered. “Danzo Shimura’s actions have disqualified him from any position of trust.” He firmly believed what he was saying, and he made the mistake of thinking that would be the end of it. Unbelievably, she pressed onward.

“He provided Hirizen with years of good counsel, dealing with threats inside and outside the village.” She lifted her chin into the air. “By all rights, he deserves a seat on your council as well. You’ve clearly shown that you need as much help as you can get.” Allowing herself a small smile, as if she’d won simply by speaking, Koharu smugly waited for him to respond. His rage was near the point of no return. He knew that if he didn’t tamp it down, it would boil over and chaos would ensue. In an attempt to calm himself, Jiraiya took a few cleansing breaths.

They didn’t help.

“It’s entirely true that I need good councilors,” he agreed. Satisfied, Koharu opened her mouth to give her reply, but he wasn’t finished.

“Unfortunately, all I have are two shriveled old fools that constantly prattle on about the way things used to be.” Her face fell, shifting from smugness to disbelief to rage. A retort formed on her lips, but she was so angry that it died there as well. Homura just stared at him, eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. _Go ahead_ , he glared. _Say that to me, we’ll see how that goes for you._ Taking a deep breath, Jiraiya spread his hands in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Koharu. That was uncalled for. I’m just…” Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he found there wasn’t much he could say to explain his behavior lately. His shoulder slumped, the stress and exertion of Nagato’s betrayal finally seeping through. “I’m at a complete loss. I have no excuse for my words, though I hope you understand and find it in your heart to forgive this great, big fool.” For several moments, he wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him apologize. She still stared at him, a dumbfounded expression on her face. Finally, she just nodded. Jiraiya took another moment to collect his thoughts.

“Homura, you know I value your experience,” he said. It was true, the older man always aired on the side of caution, just as he had with Hiruzen. So far, his vast experience in all manner of things had proven to be invaluable. Throughout his short tenure as Hokage, Jiraiya learned not to ignore Homura’s advice even if they disagreed. He hadn’t thought before he spoke. That was a common theme in his work. Homura bowed his head gracefully.

“You’ve been under incredible stresses, Lord Hokage.” Leaving it at that, he locked eyes with Jiraiya. _See that you don’t make that mistake again,_ his eyes seemed to say. Jiraiya was happy to accept the silent rebuke, if only to pacify the man. He leaned back in his chair.

“Again, is there anything else you wish to discuss?” The two councilors exchanged a look and Koharu spoke.

“The conflict with the Hidden Stone presents a unique danger.” She took a step forward. “Lord Hokage, what do you plan to do if the Tsuchikage calls for war?”

“I value peace above any military action,” he answered. “If he’ll come to the table, I will do everything in my power to find a solution. If he won’t, then I’ll defend the Land of Fire and the village with everything at my disposal.” Jiraiya sat forward and eyed his two advisors.

“If war can be averted, we must do everything possible to avoid it.” Homura said. As usual, he was the calm in the storm. A pillar against the screaming winds that called for violence and bloodshed. Jiraiya glanced at Koharu, and she cleared her throat.

“It would be foolish to say I wish for war,” she began. “But we cannot allow the deaths of five ninja, at the hands of a traitor no less, go unanswered.” Tsunade shot her a glare from across the room, speaking before Jiraiya could.

“They _were_ answered for. Five Stone ninja were killed two months before this happened. Not to mention their entire Council of Elders a month later.” Leaning towards the old woman, Tsunade raised her voice. “Compliments of your buddy Danzo Shimura.”

That seemed to genuinely shock the elderly woman. She looked from Tsunade to Jiraiya to back again. Jiraiya quietly cursed himself. He should’ve told his councilors what happened on the night of Tsunade’s event. They had the right to know. He held up his hand before either of them could speak.

“Clearly I have made another misstep. Allow me to correct that.” For the next quarter of an hour, he recalled everything that he knew about the ROOT slaughter of the Stone’s elder council. The murdered elders, the message left by Danzo’s agent, and the successful capture and interrogation of Mikoto Uchiha, his own former student. Danzo’s use of her after her apprenticeship with Jiraiya ended still stung, but now she was free. He wanted to do everything possible to ensure her continued freedom, and that meant telling his advisors everything relevant to the current political climate. When he was finished, Koharu’s mouth hung open and Homura looked ill.

“I had no idea,” the elderly woman said. “He was always rash and headstrong, but this…” shaking her head, she fell silent. Jiraiya leveled his gaze at Homura, but he didn’t say anything. Finally, he turned to Tsunade.

“You’re as much a member of this council as they are,” he said to her. “So advise me. Tell me what I should do next.” Tsunade nodded and took a moment to collect her thoughts before jumping into the fray.

“I’m not entirely sure that this feels like Danzo’s work.” Jiraiya blinked incredulously as Koharu shot a disbelieving glare at her.

“But you just said—,” he started.

“I know what I said, Lord Hokage.” Tsunade interrupted. “But just indulge me for a minute. Danzo has always professed his desire for open conflict. He never even tried to hide it; it was a constant source of conflict between him and Hiruzen-sensei.” She eyed his councilors. “Isn’t that true?”

“Yes.” Homaru admitted, though he didn’t look pleased about it.

“Then does it really seem likely that Danzo would resort to killing senior citizens at dinner?” Tsunade demanded hotly. “It doesn’t match his style. It throws everything we know about him out the window.”

“Danzo and Hiruzen often were at odds with each other, that’s true enough. But,” Koharu said, cutting off Tsunade’s response. “Hiruzen was happy to use him. Surely you’ve heard about your master’s reputation outside the village?”

“I have,” Jiraiya nodded. “But I always thought they were exaggerated rumors.”

“Surely to some extent,” Koharu agreed. “But we were his teammates. We advised him for nearly thirty years, and I can tell you that all rumors have some basis in reality.”

That was true enough, he had to concede. His experience with rumors, however, told him that they didn’t necessarily have to be true to flourish. Even among his own village, people believed that his moniker of Toad Sage meant that he ruled over all toads of Mount Myōboku. That wasn’t true of course, but it still was a prevailing theory.

“All right,” he said. “I’m willing to accept that Hiruzen-sensei used him, which is fine.” He eyed both of the elders sitting across the desk. “But I will not. Is that understood?” He gave them both some time to think, and they capitulated. “Right. What’s next?”

“There’s the matter of how we approach peace talks,” Homura said. Jiraiya gave a grunt. This was likely to lead to an argument, if he’d let it.

“Give me my choices,” he commanded. Homura spoke first.

“The way we see it, there are three options available to you.” He held up his hand with his index finger extended. “First, we appeal to the Tsuchikage, hat in hand, and see if he will talk.” He didn’t look pleased with the suggestion. Koharu positively seethed.

“That would be tantamount to signing up for your own execution, Lord Hokage. You mustn’t choose this,” she warned. He was inclined to agree, but he didn’t have much to go on other than instinct. If he proposed that, it would surely lead to his death.

“Then what do you suggest?” He asked with baited breath. She crossed her arms before continuing.

“Invite the Tsuchikage here, to the village. Allow him to enter the country unmolested; perhaps he will be more willing to negotiate a diplomatic solution before things escalate further.” Jiraiya shook his head in amazement.

“This stinks of desperation,” he said. Tsunade shifted uncomfortably, but made no move to interrupt.

“I don’t like this option very much either,” Koharu countered. “But if you’re serious about seeking peace, it must be considered. A small gesture of trust would go a long way, my Lord.”

“I _don’t_ trust him,” Jiraiya spat. The suggestion that _he_ needed to be the one exhibiting trustworthiness was almost laughable. His advisors didn’t share that thought, and made it known quite quickly.

“He has five dead ninja and an entire council of senior citizens to demand justice for,” Homura said evenly. “Yes, you aren’t responsible for the dead council members, but you _did_ send the infiltration team in under false pretenses. To him, you’re in the wrong, Lord.”

Jiraiy’s mouth was dry and his head was throbbing. It was a fact he didn’t want to look in the eye, but ultimately his orders had started this conflict. It fell on him, not the Tsuchikage. For the first time, he’d been forced to consider this. He didn’t like it one bit. Unfortunately, his sense of duty got in the way of his pride. They battled fiercely in his gut for a few tense minutes while his council sat and waited. Despite his reservation, duty won out.

“You’re right,” he said. “In my haste to retrieve the intel, I failed to consider the long-term, or hell even the short-term, implications of the mission.” Surprised faces met his gaze. Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting that.

“That’s a very wise position to take,” Tsunade chimed in. “A good leader admits when they were wrong.” She looked at the others. “Is it too late to make amends?”

“No.” Homura said firmly.

“It’s never too late,” Koharu echoed. “But we must act quickly. Your admission is commendable, Lord. Unfortunately, it won’t be enough on its own to avoid further bloodshed.”

“The first two options laid before me are distasteful. But, I will consider them at the very least.” He eyed the faces arrayed around him. “You said there were three options, Homaru. What’s the third?”

An uneasy silence fell. As the seconds passed, a frown drew tighter in Jiraiya’s forehead. Finally, Homura sighed.

“The final option is the calling of a summit between all five Kage.” More silence followed his words. Jiraiya had never heard of such an event before.

“Has one ever been called?” He asked. Homura shook his head.

“No, Lord. But this is to head off a third Great War. If it can be headed off, that is.” Koharu frowned at him.

“That kind of talk isn’t like you,” she said, sounding concerned.

“I’m a bit past belief that it can be done, if truth be told.” He answered dryly. Jiraiya couldn’t blame him, but it still stung.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “I understand the presence of myself and the Tsuchikage. But why all five Kage? This is between our two villages.”

“It won’t stay that way,” Koharu said. “The other villages will be pulled in via proxy states. The lesser nations and villages will most certainly be used as battlegrounds, like in the last two wars. They’ll call upon the Land of Wind or Lightning to protect them, and do you really believe young Raza will bestir himself on our behalf?” She shook her head dismissively. “No, I sincerely doubt it. He makes claims to be an ally, but for all we know he plots our demise even now.”

His head throbbed again. The full weight of his situation was now setting in, and it was crunch time. He had to decide on a course of action that had the potential to alter history. He was usually in the backseat, but for better or worse he now stood at the helm. His entire people were relying on him to make the right decision.

And he didn’t know if he could make it or not.

“Can I think over it?” He asked. Homura and Koharu bowed their heads. He was grateful that they didn’t push him, not on this. He closed his eyes in anticipation. “Let me hear it,” he said, looking at Tsunade. She didn’t skip a beat.

“The Uchiha clan wants its wayward sheep back, and Yahiko’s team finally arrived home.” A swell of relief sprang from his gut and quickly filled him. He smiled despite himself.

“Putting Yahiko’s return aside for a moment, why doesn’t the Uchiha clan just take Mikoto?” She shifted uncomfortably.

“Because when she was processed at the psychiatric ward, she listed you as her legal guardian.” Jiraiya thought he sensed annoyance in her tone. When she glanced up, he knew he hadn’t been imagining it. She looked positively peeved. “For all intents and purposes, it’s up to you what happens to her.”

“So I’d be completely within my rights to give her back?” He asked. Tsunade surprisingly seemed even more offended at that, but nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “Though I would ask that you take some time to think about any action you might take regarding her. She was, as much as I hate to say it, only following Danzo’s orders.”

“You don’t want to punish her for interrupting your event?” Jiraiya asked, raising an eyebrow. Tsunade gave him a rude look.

“No, of course not,” She said. “The way she broke down so easily… It wouldn’t sit well with me. She’s clearly in a dark spot right now.” Again, he was surprised. A welcome surprise, but nonetheless an unexpected sentiment. Tsunade was legendary for her ability to hold a grudge.

“Very well,” he agreed. “For now, she’ll continue to receive treatment. We’ll see what we can do about pulling Danzo out, root and stem. It’ll take a great deal of contemplation on my part.” He stood up, causing his councilors to do the same. “When we next meet, I promise I’ll be more presentable. That’s all, if you’ll excuse me.”

The trio started to leave the office. Tsunade gave him a passing look as she exited. She was concerned for him, he knew. The stress was already making him drink himself under the table. If it continued, worse things were sure to plague him.

As soon as the council was gone, Yahiko entered alone. His face was caked in dirt, sweat, and grime. There was also a bandage on his right cheek. Any thoughts of a cheery welcome vanished when he spoke after the door shut behind him.

“Is it true?” Was all he needed to say. Falling back into his chair, Jiraiya wished his damned head would stop throbbing so much. _Where the hell did that bottle go?_

“Yes,” he said simply. There was no need to ask what Yahiko was asking about. He was only surprised it took this long to have the conversation.

“Why did he do it?” Yahiko asked. His voice sounded hard, and pain was etched deep into his features.

“I don’t know. Nobody does.” It felt like a pathetic thing to say. Nagato’s best friend and master sat in the same room, and neither of them knew what drove him to betray them. Jiraiya thought he’d known the young man inside and out. He was kind, a bit shy, and loyal to a fault. His friends meant everything to him, and yet he injured one and abandoned the other.

“I want to request permission to go find him,” Yahiko said. “Please, sensei. Maybe I could convince him to…” Shaking his head, he locked eyes with Jiraiya. “Please.”

“I understand your feelings,” he began. “But you have a higher duty to your village. I need you, Yahiko. What if he doesn’t listen and decides to kill you, for reasons we’ll never understand?”

“He would never,” Yahiko shot back. “I know he wouldn’t.”

“Do you?” Jiraiya snapped. “I thought I knew him, too. And yet both of us are stumped and blundering about for answers.” Immediately, regret replaced his anger. Yahiko looked stricken. His lip was quivering and he appeared to be on the brink of tears. _Damn you, man_ , he thought. _You never know what to say._

“I… yes, Lord Hokage.” Yahiko looked anything but pleased, but he didn’t argue. “I’d like to give my report now.”

“Then by all means,” Jiraiya said. The news was not welcome. A small holding in the south western quadrant of the Land of Fire came under attack about a week after Konan’s team left. In a flurry of quick action, Jiraiya decided to give Yahiko a chance at command, sending him in a squad of four to investigate and assist in any way possible. A few days after arriving, a second assault was carried out. The Hidden Stone was behind it, of course. Jiraiya groaned to himself when he heard, but he listened silently to the rest. For days, this four man cell fended off raid after raid until relief arrived. Then, they were harried all the way back to the village’s outermost border.

“Nobody died on our side, but we’re all a bit tired and malnourished.” He fell silent at last. He stared at a spot just above Jiraiya’s head, almost unblinking. A seriousness inhabited him now that didn’t before. An earned sense of experience and growth, Jiraiya determined. Gone was the boy Yahiko once was. Now stood the man that life had beaten down and carved away to the core.

“You’ve done well, son.” Jiraiya said softly. “Go home, get some rest.” Yahiko’s shoulders visibly slumped. He nodded his thanks and left without another word. Just when he thought that nothing else would require his attention and he could return to drinking, Tsunade came in. Before she could even speak, he held his hand up.

“Don’t,” he sighed. “Please. I’ve just about talked my throat out today.” She chuckled and crossed the room to him, a smile playing at her lips. Stopping in front of his desk, she leaned across it and kissed his forehead.

“You’re doing the best you can,” she whispered. “But you desperately need a shower, a shave, and some sleep.” He wanted to argue, but she kissed him before he could. His sake breath didn’t seem to repulse her, which he was grateful for. Pulling him out of his chair, she gingerly wrenched the bottle from his hand and guided him to the office’s exit. As he left, he eyed the clock on his wall.

He’d been at work for nearly twenty-six hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very dialogue heavy. It was difficult to put myself in three separate mindsets and world views to try and make this a conversation that could actually happen. It’s also the second chapter in a row that’s only from one point of view, so again a bit less plot development and some character growth that happens off-screen(so to say). I want to make these characters and the directions they take to be believable, so if you think something doesn’t add up please let me know. I’d be more than happy to work on that if it makes the story more enjoyable. Thanks a ton for reading!


End file.
